


The Firebird

by merciki



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Ballet, F/M, Fluff, Love, Modern Day Setting, Slow Burn, Tango, and danse, ballet meets tango, everlark, real slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 98,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merciki/pseuds/merciki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet Katniss Everdeen, who has only one dream. Become the best dancer at the National Ballet. There's only one problem. She's too closed off to really give a heartfelt performance. Could a tango dancer coming into her life change that? Read if you want to find out :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Step 1: Setting the Stage

Stretch – flex. Repeat the same moves. Always.

Sitting on the hardwood floor of the rehearsal room, the dancer had started repeating the familiar moves, warming her muscles and joints. First, the ankles, rotating them with her hand, slowly turning the right one, twelve rounds clockwise, followed by twelve rounds counterclockwise, before paying the same attention to the left one.

Stretch – flex. Flexing the joint until it hurt, again and again.

She finally rose, straightening her over-sized grey sweatpants before adjusting the ribbons of her pointe shoes, making sure they are double-knotted. She had learned her lesson years ago, and didn't want them to get away in the middle of the show, thank you very much. She continued her routine, stretching her arms over her head, and banding at the waist to warm the muscles of her back.

She felt at ease in this secluded place, far away from the noise of the locker rooms where the other dancers of the corps de ballet are preparing for the day's long hours of repetition.

Here, in the silence, with only half the lamps turned on, she could really focus on what was to come.

Methodically, she started her routine again, plié, position of the arms, warming her muscles, bending to graciously touch the tip of her satin shoe, focusing on the moves. She rose slowly, stretching the upper part of her body, slightly gripping the barre in front of her, and concentrated before letting her legs do their battements.

The wooden doors opened as she was throwing her leg back, the sound of the squeaky hinge surprising her enough to cause her to nearly lose her balance. She gripped the barre in front of her tighter, slowly turning to look at the intruder.

"Well, look who's there! Sweetheart! Warming up, are we? Mind if we come in, it's not like we have to rehearse, you know." The man with the dirty blond hairsaid as he walked towards the piano located on his right.

"I already told you not to call me Sweetheart, Haymitch."

In a swift movement that was not to be expected, the man turned to face the young woman at the barre. "It is Mr. Abernathy to you. And I'll call you Sweetheart as long as I'm your teacher. Deal with it or feel free to leave the room. Sweetheart."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, before adding with a smirk."Sir".

"Looking for you, obviously. Effie's asking for everybody to gather up in the theater. Guess you should go."

Nodding absently, Katniss put her large sweatshirt on, before grabbing her bottle of water and heading out of the room, zipping her bag and throwing it up upon her shoulder.

The Theater. She always felt the same rush of emotions whenever she came inside the place. She could remember the first time she came here, when her parents had brought her to a viewing of some of the most famous ballets, in a show made for the kids. The little girl had worn her brand new red dress, her mom had plaid her hair in two braids, and wearing her brightest shoes, she had entered the Opera House. The ornamented front of the old building, complete with statutes of the Muses along the top, and the high colonna supporting the roof had given her the impression of entering some princess' castle. Inside, in the quiet hush of a place usually reserved to the adults, Katniss had admired the paintings all around the large lobby, of dancers and ballerinas in various sparkling costumes. Her mother had pointed her towards the imposing marble staircase, with the statue of a woman dancing just where the steps forked in two. She could remember even now, that she stared at the statue for a long time, lost in the smile on her face as she twirled her long robe around her. The little girl learned several years later that it was Terpsichore, the muse of Ballet, and always found it funny that her desire for dance came straight from an inspirational sort of deity.

 

And now, as she entered the large theater to take a place on the red-velvet seat to listen to Effie, she felt just like her old five-year old self walking inside for the first time. Swivels of gold and red were everywhere, catching the light of the only spot on the scene, the magic of the place was still making the little girl hidden so deep inside Katniss Everdeen looking at them with awe.

 

"Hello, Hello so glad to see so many of you lovely people here today." Effie was looking at the small crowd of people gathered in the ranks of the theater, randomly seated on the velvet seats. "As you all know very well, we had the pleasure of welcoming our new Director of Dance a few months ago, and he has finalized the program for the next season. Please give a warm welcome to Plutarch Heavensbee!"

 

I still wonder how he could have once been an etoile, thought Katniss looking at the plump new Director of Dance coming onto stage. But as always, she noticed a thing, the small movement the tips of his feet made before hitting the floor, the oh-so recognizable outstretched feet dancers had, or the way his arm would move, with a grace perfected by years of practice.

"So lovely to be here. Let me tell you, with Effie here, we will put an amazing program for the next season. Effie, would you, please?"

The woman turned towards the giant screen that had appeared from the top of the red curtains, and started fiddling unsuccessfully with the remote control she held as nothing appeared. She quickly made her way backstage – certainly to check with a technician – leaving Plutarch alone on the scene.

 

"Well, one thing we can be sure of about technology, it's that it never works!! So, let me rather tell you what we will be performing this season. Some of the classics – Coppelia, Giselle, Romeo and Juliet among others- and a bit of novelty. We'll add The Song of Earth, and The Firebird, in its new version to our repertoire. And at the end of the season, for our last show, we will be performing one of the public’s favorite, The Nutcracker, with the full ballet. And the orchestra. You will be emailed the full list by Effie." A round of polite applause saluted Plutarch's announcement. But he wasn't finished yet. "And this year, we'll do auditions for each and every ballet."

The wave of applause covered that covered Plutarch's last words, was nothing like the former. The previous director of Dance was known to only giving the best roles to his favorite dancers, never taking their talent into account, but rather their family's bank account. His behavior lead to a decrease of the ballet's reputation, with the nomination of principal dancers who in a lot of people's opinion, didn't deserve it. At all.

"Thank you, everybody. I also want to add, as you can see, some of the principal dancers are not here anymore. They decided to, ahem, give their careers a new turn, meaning we'll have some seats to fill." Another round of applause, complete with whistles carried out the approbation of the crowd of dancers gathered in the theater. "The new principals will be announced at the end of the Nutcracker. With Glimmer, Clove, Cato and Marvel gone, there will be four new principals at the end of the season. And this time, the title will go to the ones who deserve it."

The applauses, whistles and shouts echoed in the theater for a long time.

A piercing sound came out of the speakers, followed by Effie's return on the scene, wearing a microphone headset carefully installed in her too golden hair.

"Here I am! So sorry for the delay, but Tim told me where to plug in the thing, and to ease it in slowly. It should work now!"

All smiles, she clicked on her remote and the white screen took life, dispatching a beautiful landscape. The sunset was a rich orange, complete with touches of red and pink, offering the dark waves of the sea a stark contrast with the white boat sails floating near the coast. But it was the main part of the pictures that had people cat call and applauding. The whole room was full of noise and cackling, with "Go Effie!" being shouted.

"Who knew there was such a body underneath her strict dresses?" Katniss started at the sound of Haymitch's words in her ears, as she, with all the people in the theater could see the display the Excutive assistant's body in a white bikini, soaking in the evening sun on the screen.

Finally realizing that something was off, or rather that the crowd showed way too much enthusiasm for a rather simple PowerPoint, Effie turned towards the screen. Nobody would have believed such a small body as hers could produce such a squeal.

Blushing by the second, she started pressing buttons on the remote, to show the delighted theater more shots of her holidays, presumably on a Greek island, until she decided to simply unplug the computer from the cable linking it to the screen.

"Well, that was … unexpected, to say the least." Plutarch spoke in his mike, trying to take the attention off of Effie, who was retreating in shame backstage, holding the computer to her heart.

"We'll start the auditions for the first piece – Manon – in a week. Effie" he motioned with his hand to the place the woman had disappeared "will send you an email with the schedules for the auditions. Please answer in the delays if you're interested in one of the parts. Men will try out on the Lescaut Drunken Dance and women on the Act2 party variation. Grab your shoes, children. And may the odds be ever in your favor, always."

Katniss could feel her heart beating a little faster than usual. Open auditions. Nominations as principal dancers. The Nutcracker. All this in a season. Maybe it was finally the year she'd been waiting for, the year she would see her deepest dream come true. The year she would reach the highest rank in the ballet. The year …

"Hold your horses, sweetheart. It's not going to happen."

Haymitch's voice once again cut her off of her thoughts, startling her out of her reverie.

"How would you know what I'm thinking of?" she snapped, quickly adding, "Sir?"

"Because you're an open book, sweetheart. You're thinking about adding your name to the list of principals, which is not going to happen."

"Why wouldn't it happen? My technique has always been better than Glimmer's and she became one."

"Plutarch actually knows that it takes more than a bank account to make a dancer. And yes, your technique is better than Miller's Every first dancer's technique is better than hers! But you lack something to become a principal. You lack the most important thing, actually." With a last look, the teacher got up from his seat, ready to leave to join the other dancers gathering on the scene, when Katniss' hand on his arm stopped him.

"And what would that be? Sir?" Her trademark scowl, only accentuated the snarky comment.

Haymitch looked around him, taking in the dancers that were now in groups, excitingly chatting about the announcements that had just been made, before turning back and leaning into Katniss, whispering.

"You lack feeling. You're like one of these impregnable towers. You show nothing but technique. That's not what a dancer is. That's what a technician is. If you want to become a principal, you'll have to let your emotions out, sweetheart. If you have any."

Hurt. That's how Katniss felt at Haymitch's words. She had feelings, she had just buried them very deep inside. Because feelings hurt. So damned much. And anyway, dance was all about technique, all about precision, the movement of an arm, of a head, the extension of a leg, the flexibility of the body. Not about joy. Or sadness.

While performing, she always wore the expression her character needed, a sad face, a smile, or whatever the choreographer had decided. She could do this. She would become a principal before the last show of the season.

"Katniss? Where were you?" She was taken from her thoughts by the hand a young woman with long blond hair had put on her arm.

"Sorry Madge, I was distracted." Now that she was out of her reverie, she started looking around for the dirty blond hair of her professor. He couldn't have disappeared so easily…

"The program is so good this year! Can't wait to know who they pick for Manon. We already have tons of ideas, you know!!!"

"I'm sure, Madge, I'm sure…" Katniss answered distantly, not paying much attention to her friend's babbling. She knew she would hear about it time and time again.

"I wanted to ask you something, Kat?" God did she hate that nickname, but Madge couldn't seem to get rid of it. And Where was Abernathy? That looks like him, above there? But no, it wasn’t not him.

"Whatever, Madge, unless it involves an LBD and heels."

"Har, har, you're hilarious. You see, I have tickets for this show and as Derek isn't that thrilled to come…." The rest of Madge's words got lost behind Katniss as she finally spotted her teacher. She turned to her friend, and nodded before walking towards Haymitch as fast as she could on her pointe shoes, in the middle of a crowd.

She caught up with him on the platform of the marble stairs, just under the statue she had admired so much with her mother, so many years ago.

"Haymitch!"

She heard the sigh as he turned his head, his dirty blond hair falling against his back.

"Of course. She wants explanations."

"The hell I want explanations! Who do you think I am? A selfish bitch ? You know nothing about me, Haymitch! Not a single thing!"

The last sounds of her shout echoed in the empty lobby of the Opera, lingering away until the silence fell on both of them.

Sighing heavily, Haymitch closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts.

"I know more about you than you think. You worked your ass off to enter the most elite ballet of all the country, and you'll only stop when you reach your goal to become principal. Because there is something that makes you go forward. What it is? Boyfriend? Doubtful, you spend your days here. Parents? No, you're too sad for that. Brother? Sister? Yeah, that's it. What's the deal with your sister, Everdeen?"

"Not your business," she answered, grabbing the banister so hard her knuckles were white.

"Dang! Wrong answer!" Haymitch started to climb the stairs bringing him much closer to where Katniss was standing still holding onto the railing for dear life. "That's where you're entirely wrong, Katniss. If you want to be the best dancer on this damn stage, if you want to keep your promise, you have to open up. Dancing is not only technique, or where to put your pointe. Or how well you pivot. Dancing is sharing a part of yourself with the people sitting in the theater – and with your partners. You have to be willing to give yourself over." Haymitch was now mere inches from Katniss. He took her chin in his hand. "Pina Bausch once said: "Everything must come from the heart, must be lived." Are you ready to start living, Katniss?" And without another word, he turned and left.


	2. Step 2: Introducing New Characters

Katniss just couldn't stop staring at Madge's text, and trying to understand how in hell she could have accepted to go with her. She would also like to know, thank you very much, WHERE she was supposed to go, you know, to be able to dress appropriately.

Because you don't go to the opera or The Hob dressed exactly the same.

"Pick you up at 7:30. No LBD, as promised!"

No LBD. That's all she got, along with a bunch of words heard after Plutarch's presentation. Tickets. A show.

A show.

A show. With Madge. A costume designer.

And where Derek didn't want to come, it could only mean one thing.

A FUCKING FASHION SHOW. With models as skinny as beans, moving their asses on the runway, and people praising whatever designer had the craziest idea this year. "Oh, look, the ostrich feather. So couture! Isn't it the best idea in, like, FOREVER?"

The last time Madge successfully dragged her to one of them, it had only took Katniss around four minutes before wanting to get the hell out of the Space Center (because, of course, a fashion show can't be held in a fashion shop. It has to be at an exotic location, like a space center, or in a garage, just in case you would ever wear couture to go to Jupiter or change a damn piston. Whatever). Only Madge's iron grip and the threat of going shopping for a whole Saturday had stopped Katniss from moving. She had to suffer through the "aaahs" and "ohhs" of a crowd who apparently found it absolutely amazing to wear a pair of bleached rags called a dress, or walk on heels made out of scraps of metal.

Anyway, it wasn't a time for ramblings. Looking at the clock on her bedstand Katniss nearly jumped when she saw the numbers in red. 7:06. In twenty-four minutes – and you could always be sure Madge would be on time – she would be swept off. And she still didn't know what to wear.

Desperate times calling for desperate measures, she grabbed her old phone (a phone that you could actually call someone with, not one of these fancy toys used to do everything BUT calling ), and dialed her sister's number.

Just to, of course, be forwarded to Prim's voicemail. Of course she wasn't available, being on rotation trying to save lives or something, instead of helping her sister in a matter of life and death.

Now Katniss was stuck in front of her dresser, attempting to find something to wear in the twenty-one minutes –no, scratch that– in the twenty minutes left she had before Madge would arrive.

A few minutes later, she was still undecided. Sure, she had grabbed her favorite pair of jeans, the dark blue ones that she felt so comfortable in, and was still hesitant as to what to wear above. Would a blouse be okay, considering they were going to a fashion show? Should she look vintage or go for a simple black shirt? You can't mess up with black, right?

"Black it is, then," Katniss said, looking at herself in the mirror. Years of dance made her body slim and sinewy, but all she could see was her small height – what she would give to have two more inches – and small breasts, the cons of being a dancer. Grabbing her leather jacket with a sigh, she decided to leave the room before changing her mind, and headed out of her room just as the bell rang. Madge was there early.

"Katniss! I'm so happy we're going together! Not that I don't want to go with Derek, but you know, he's a guy, and I would never convince him that he has to come! And I'll get to see Delly! I really can't wait to see her again! Oh god, it's going to be so wonderful! I'm so happy you agreed to come!"

Delly? As in Delly Cartwright? Katniss was very surprised. She didn't know Madge's cousin had started modeling, but given her body, she could easily find her place on the catwalk. At least that would be a familiar figure to look at.

"Delly? That's great, I haven't seen her in a long time."

"Yes! All these years of training finally paid off! She's so happy to be in the show! She promised to introduce us to her friends there. I can't wait!"

Training? As far as Katniss knew, the only training Delly had done was dance. But not the classical ballet dancing little girls fancy No, Madge's cousin has always been attracted to ballroom dancing – too much viewing of Dancing with the Stars or something. It surely gave her curves and muscles, but that wasn't necessarily what was needed to walk the runway. Perhaps Katniss was wrong, maybe they weren't going to a fashion show….

"And I can't wait to show Cinna the pictures of the outfits! I hope he'll like them!"

Scratch that. If the pictures go to Cinna, the head designer of all the ballet costumes, then there has to be clothes involved. And Madge + Cinna + clothes = fashion show.

Time to face the music, Katniss thought. The sooner we leave, the earlier we come back.

"What time is the show, Madge? Shouldn't we be going?"

"Oh yes, you're right, Kat. We don’t want to be late, do we?" Madge’s bright smile was blinding.

Yes, we do.

-o-

Katniss took in her surroundings, trying to figure out where they were heading. Today, it seemed that they were taking the road towards the Arena, a large theater that held all kinds of events. Well, at least they would be sitting in comfortable seats.

"This fashion show is at the Arena?" Katniss had to know, just in case they would be sitting on cushions on the cold, hard floor of Creepy Things Ltd.

"Fashion show? You think we're going to a fashion show?"

"Aren't we? I mean, if Derek doesn't want to come, and you’re taking pictures for Cinna...?"

"My god, Katniss, you did not listen to me at all! Of course not, we're not going to a fashion show. I think you're banned from them for at least the next century!"

"Oh." She didn't know what made her happier: not going to a fashion show, or never having to go to another one for, like, the rest of her life.. "Where are we going to, then? And that means Delly's not a model?"

"This new show, La Boca… What? Delly, a model? Delly would never want to be a model…."

"I don't really know, Madge. I wasn't paying that much attention when you asked me.. I wanted to find Haymitch, and then, well, usually you try to drag me to these fashion shows, so I just assumed…."

Madge stopped the car before turning to her friend, smiling.

"We're going to see something much more up your alley, Katniss. Look!" After struggling with her purse for a few minutes, Madge successfully took out two wrinkled tickets and handed them over to her.

"La Vida Loca? The crazy life? What is this, Madge? I hope it's not some neo-punk-whatever-shit-ish thing like the one you dragged me to the last time!"

"A little trust, please, Kat! Let's go, we will be late! And I'd like to see if maybe we can catch up with Delly before the show!" She climbed out of her brand new Prius, not so patiently waiting for Katniss to close the door before she locked it. "And by the way, I kind of promised Delly we’d see her afterwards. And don't start protesting. Tomorrow's Saturday, and you don't have to go to the Opera to rehearse. For once, you're going to have a little fun!"

-o-

A show beginning with an old Ricky Martin song is bound to suck grandiosely. As Katniss took in the large scene in front of her, progressively being filled up by dancers in short skirts and tight glittering bras, dancing to the beat of the 90s with all the bad moves it involves, and the sparkling lights, she felt the urge to stand up and just leave the place. She was trying to take her bag stealthily to make an unnoticed escape when a resounding "NO" came out of the speakers, stopping the dancers right away.

And suddenly, coming from the rear of the auditorium, the languid sound of an accordion started its lament, stealing the attention of the crowd to a scene of an old man walking slowly towards the stage. A single white spotlight caressed his hands as they played quickly on the keys of his instrument, while he looked in front of him, towards the now empty stage from which stairs had appeared.

The old man made his way up to a single stool on the left of the scene, where he sat alone, under his spotlight, still playing his sad song.

Until, at the end of a line, instead of dying, the song began again at a fastertempo. The sad song was replaced by something much quicker, with a pace that took the audience away. As soon as the music started, other lights appeared, revealing the dancers.

But instead of the sparkling ensembles they had during the intro, the women were now wearing long black or red dresses, all with a cutout on either of their legs, perched on high heels, while the men were all in dress pants and black shirts.

The six couples all started their dance together, apparently losing themselves in the sounds of the accordion, now joined by several musicians.

"Madge… what is this really?"

"This is the show I've wanted to see for a long time, it's all about tango and Latin dances…. Have you seen Delly? She looks radiant!"

Turning her head towards the stage, Katniss looked for Madge's cousin, her experienced gray eyes wandering along the couples, noting the ease with which they were making complex sets of steps, intertwining their legs and feet in time with the music.

"On the right, Katniss," Madge pointed out, elbowing her arm, "with the red dress!"

And there she was, in all her splendor. Katniss could not hide the smile tugging at her lips. Delly was clearly enjoying herself, even though her steps were precise and determined. She twirled, slipped, walked, turned, and every other tango-related step that Katniss had no clue about.

But as each number unfolded before her eyes, she soon realized she didn't care. The decor of the stage remained simple, the musicians had taken place in the back of the stage, on a small platform surrounded by deep red panels of fabric.

The real show was on stage though. Number after number they came dancing, sometimes starting all together with every couple fading but one, sometimes it was a solo number on a particular piece of music.And even once, a number was performed in silhouettes, not allowing a single mistake in the steps.

Women were swirling, batting their legs and languidly trailing their hands on their partners, while the men lookedfierce and proud while guiding their dancers.

Soon, too soon, the show came to an end. The group and musicians saluted the now standing audience. Cheersand applause were loud in the theater, resounding long after the dancers had left the stage.

"That was good, right? Tell me you enjoyed yourself!"

"I did, I swear, and more than I expected to, considering I was thinking we were heading to a fashion show! And the dancers were good, really. Lots of technique there."

Madge rolled her eyes at the mention of technique.

"It was hot too, sometimes! These dancers are really sexy, you know?"

"They're okay, I guess," Katniss answered, shrugging her shoulders. She was used to being around half-naked, well-muscled handsome men as part of her job.

"So you don't mind if we go and meet them? I mean, Delly got us backstage passes so we could talk to her after the show…."

Going home and snuggling on her couch with a cup of hot chocolate and watching the last episode of The Walking Dead was almost everything Katniss wanted to do right now. But she also knew that Madge was eager to catch up with their friend, as well as have a look at the costumes. And there was something she wasn't good at: denying anything to the ones she loved .

"Well, let's go backstage. But I swear if you drag me into that costume room and start making me wear these dresses—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You'll kill me and then use my body parts to tear the costumes apart. I know."

They made it about three feet backstage when they heard the oh-so-recognizable piercing sound of their friend's voice.

"Oh, Maggie, I'm so glad you could come!" Delly hugged her tightly, all blond hair and giggles. "Katniss, so happy you came! I kind of freaked out when Madge told me she would bring you alone, you know!"

"Why? You didn't want to see me?" Katniss frowned, letting her signature scowl appear on her forehead.

"No, no, that's not it! But what I do is so different from what you do – I mean, you're a ballerina! I was afraid you wouldn't like what we did!"

"Let's just say the first minute wasn't exactly what I expected. But it got better – and the musicians on stage bring so much more… you're lucky to have them, you know. We would love to have an orchestra on scene…."

"Yes, they are great! Antonio – the man with the accordion – is the one who started the show with his sons and—oh?" Delly turned as she felt something suddenly cover her shoulders. "Thanks, Peet!" She leaned forward to place a kiss on the cheek of the blond man that had appeared behind her.

"Madge, Katniss, this is Peeta. Maybe you saw him onstage? He's one of our best dancers!"

"Hardly, Dell." Turning to the two women in front of him, he held his hand out in front of him, towards Madge first, and then Katniss. "Peeta Mellark. Pleased to meet you, ladies. Did you enjoy the show?"

Katniss distractedly listened to Madge rambling about the dances, the costumes, and again the costumes, while she took in the pair of blondes in front of her. Delly was her usual self, all curves and cleavage but without a hint of vulgarity. She was leaning casually on the guy she introduced as Peeta.

Peeta? Must be Peter, right ? The loud background music must have taken a toll on her audition. No way a guy would be named Peeta. Anyway. Katniss had noticed him during the show. He had a grace that you wouldn't expect from someone with such a broad physique, but it seemed that he came alive as the music started, taking all of him. She understood this feeling of being overwhelmed, having drowned in it more than once. She had even spotted him dancing with eyes closed, but managing nonetheless to guide his partner without a fault. He was, by Katniss' standards, a good dancer.

She was surprised at how much she had enjoyed the show, and made a note to thank Madge for taking her along. Lots of dance, a little historical background, and a show that for almost two hours took her to Buenos Aires.

Katniss snapped out of her reverie after hearing her name, and she realized that all eyes were focused on her.

"What?"

"I was just wondering in which company you were working, as Delly mentioned you were a dancer yourself. Maybe I've seen one of your shows?"

"Oh. I am with the National Ballet."

"Wow. That’s awesome… you're an Etoile?" Katniss could swear she heard the tiniest bit of hesitation before Peter's deep voice answered her.

"No, Peter, I am only First Dancer."

"It's Peeta actually. With two Es and an A. And well, congratulations, really. National's Ballet is one of the greatest in the country. Now, ladies, if you'll excuse me, I have some catching up to do with friends. I'll see you later, Dels?"

Peeta waved at the three women before turning to head backstage.

"Madge, you HAVE to come with me, I bet you want to meet Venia? She's our costume designer. Katniss, you want to come along?" Reluctantly for the dark-haired one, both women followed Delly backstage where they were introduced to the bubbling designer, who was delighted to meet a colleague.

The lingering memory of the show remained with Katniss for longer than she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My huge thanks to ct522 (@titaniasfics) and dandelion-sunset for beta-ing :)
> 
> ANd a HUGE thank you to xerxia for the support !
> 
> I'm thegirlfromoverthepond on Tumblr.
> 
> Please do not hesitate to leave a message if you liked the story :)


	3. Step 3: Getting Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get started, right?

"Five, six, seven and eight. Get focused, sweetheart! Head up, smile, No! Back to the start!"

Sweat was falling down Katniss' back, wetting her tight top as she took her starting position, again. Left leg in front of her, tip of the feet on the ground, arms in crown above her head, and the right leg as the pillar it needed to be.

The air in the rehearsal room was heavy, charged with work and that typical smell of harderner lacquer. The large mirrors reflected the image of a thin dancer in tights and pointes, wearing a long diaphanous red skirt, a color matching her grey eyes and olive skin. Her hair was combed in a once-tidied bun, but small strands of wet hair had made an escape and were flying around her head.

"And, one, two, three, four," Haymitch's voice in the background wasn't covered by the chords of the music. "Hands, now pivot, and stabilize. Hands, god dammit! You have to seduce him! Imagine he's your boyfriend and you want nothing more than to have him in your bed!"

But the problem was, the only male in the room was an old dance teacher who spent most of the working hours shouting at her, and not one of the handsome dancers she saw on stage last friday with Madge. And she sure as hell didn't want to bed Haymitch any time soon. Or ever.

"Come on, faster, pointe…." Shaking his head, the teacher turned to the pianist seated in one of the corners of the room." Please stop the music, Sally, we'll start again. Everdeen, from the beginning."

Katniss' shoulders fell slightly down at the thought of doing the routine – again, for at least the twentieth time this morning. Her muscles were starting to ache, but it was nothing she wasn't used to. She would succeed. She would be the leading role of Manon Lescaut. She took a deep breath, and started again. And again.

Until she looked at the clock above the door, seeing how long she'd been at it, and that her professor asked her to start back one more time. This time, she couldn't take it anymore, and had every intent to let him know.

"Again? What did I do wrong this time? The steps were right! It's been hours now, Haymitch, and we did not move further than the first movement! How am I supposed to audition for this part?"

"Contrary to what you believe, I know what I'm doing here, Everdeen. Call me whatever you want, but I know there is much more you don't show me." Haymitch leant down to the piano player and whispered in her ear. The old woman nodded before rising and leaving the room, her heels echoing on the hardwood floor.

"You have to let go, Katniss." Combing his hair with his hands, he made his way to where the young woman sat, knees bent, back on the large mirror, exhausted. He crouched down in front of her, and with a voice much sweeter than she was used to, started to talk.

"You won't succeed in dancing if you don't let go. If you don't open up and lower your walls. This ballet, any ballet must reverberate in you, must be familiar to you in every way. Manon wants to seduce this man to have money so she can be with her true love. If you can't make it yours, then you won't dance it properly. It's despair; it's a hunger for something better. Even if it means sacrificing a part of yourself for it. If you can't relate to that, I'm sorry, but you'll never be an Etoile. If you dance the Swans, you have to become Odette, despair for the light of day which maybe will bring her human form back. If you dance the Firebird, you have to become that bird, magical, whose feathers are priceless. If you're in the Nutcracker, you have to become a toy…. You have to feel something inside. Else, there is not much I can give to you. Of course your steps were right. The steps are always right with you. And that's the problem. You don't allow yourself failure, or you think you'll break. Well, newsflash, sweetheart. Sometimes, breaking up will do you good."

He rose, and took the blue towel lying on the barre above Katniss and threw it in her lap.

"Now you think about it, and we start again tomorrow at 7:30. Don’t be late."

The echo of his steps remained with Katniss in the empty rehearsal room for longer than she thought it would.

Time passed. How long? She couldn't tell. Head bent down and resting on her arms, she tried to rest her exhausted muscles before getting up. The familiar noise of kids chatting, laughing, and running down the hallways filled her ears.

Lucky kids. They still don't know what it is to spend hours on a simple line of steps. But who was she kidding? These kids were already in the ballet, already competing to appear on stage, or to be the best at the end of the year, during the annual exam.

The squeak of the door's hinges took her from her thoughts of so long ago when she was just like them, running in the endless corridors from one dance lesson to another, with only dancing on her mind. So much had changed since that time. Slowly, as her neck ached from the awkward position she'd been in, Katniss gathered her belongings scattered around her bag, taking the clue it was time to empty the room for another class.

"You don't have to leave now, Katniss. I actually came to talk to you…."

Her head snapped as she took in the person that had come inside the room. She certainly didn't expect Effie Trinket to venture so far away from her office and mahogany desk into the realm of sweat, heat and tears.

"Why?" was all she could answer. Why would Miss Effie Trinket, Executive Assistant for the Panem Ballet come to talk to her, unless…. Unless she had very bad news to share. And Katniss knew her behavior was far from being perfect. Could she handle blame, or even more, a firing ? Where would she work? Who would want to hire a ballerina that's been sacked from the biggest opera in the country, and one of the top five in the world? – Wait, not even a ballerina, she was barely a notable dancer, not even sure – or able – to make the highlights one day.

"Because you need help, child."

Help? Did Effie know who she was talking to ?

"I don't need help."

"Can you stop being a badass for the next five minutes and listen to what I have to tell you? But more importantly, do you really want to be an Etoile?"

"Don't bother. Abernathy gave me the pep talk already."

"I'm sure Professor--" Effie made sure to stretch the name, "Abernathy talked to you. I'm not completely sure he said the right things, though." She sighed. "He can be a little, let's say, rough around the edges sometimes."

Effie came closer, until she was finally in front of Katniss, and kneeled down to sit just across from her.

"I want you to listen to a story without saying a word. Then I will walk out of this room, and we will never talk about it again, is that clear?"

"A story? Whose story?"

"Mine."

-o-o-

"Will you stop scowling for a minute? There's someone coming here for you, sweetheart, to help you. So if you don't want to make him run away, try to smile. Or rather, try not to scowl. You think you can do it?"

"I'm not scowling, Haymitch! I'm just being me!"

"Then stop being you, and be the smiling version of Katniss!"

She rolled her eyes at the sarcasm dripping from Haymitch's words, so used to it by now after so many years of working together.

"Well, seems you're way more excited to see this person than I am. Any long time lover we should know about?"

"Har, har, she's hilarious. The things I do for you, and how am I repaid? Work on your pliés instead of babbling like a twelve-year-old."

Katniss turned to the mirror in front of her, working on her moves. Her mind was somewhere else, still reliving Effie's confession of her failed career and broken dreams. True to her word, she had left at the end of her story, not even trying to hide the tears rolling down her face. Alone in the rehearsal room, surrounded by mirrors and wood, the young dancer had let the weight of the words fall on her.

It has always been so easy to mock Effie for her looks, or somewhat silly attitude – but who had really cared to see what was hidden behind the walls of makeup and designers' clothes? Who would know the hurt, the pain that dance had caused her, and how much strength she had needed to work right where she would have had the career she had dreamt of.

Listening to Effie had been what Katniss had needed to stand up the next morning and face Haymitch.

The door felt heavier this morning, maybe still full of what had happened the day before. Or maybe, the weight was due to her fear that Haymitch wouldn't show up, that he had given up on her. That somehow she had succeeded once again in disappointing someone, or worse, that once again she had pushed someone away.

She had taken a very deep breath and gathered all her strength before pushing the door open. Her sports bag fell from her right shoulder – as usual – and she caught it with her right hand. As usual, she opened the heavy curtains, letting the light of the day come into the room, and started her preparation. She avoided looking at the clock hanging above the door, for fear that it would show that Haymitch was already so late he wouldn't show up.

Feelings. She spent her whole evening thinking about her talks with Effie and Haymitch. Of what the professor told her, of how she had to embrace the character she was dancing. Of how she was supposed to be able to become another person. And how Effie told her she would give anything to have the feeling of the pointe under her toes once more, to be able to lose herself to the music, and to become someone else, just once more.

"Glad you came, sweetheart. Hope you're ready for a lot of work." Katniss was snapped out of her reverie. "You won't need your pointy shoes today. Just grab your ballet shoes, and let’s get started."

And they did work a lot indeed. Not on her steps, but on her face. And when finally, after hours of tests, Haymitch threw in the towel and they both sat on the floor side by side, breathing hard.

"Well, seems like we'll have to take a different approach. But I can't do this on my own, as everything I know doesn't have any effect. So we'll start again, but I'll bring a friend."

"A friend? You got friends?"

"What can I say? Your sunny disposition is not enough to fulfill my social needs."

"And what will he do to me?"

"Hopefully, he can help you bring your walls down. If he can't do it, nobody can."

Taking the barre above his head, Haymitch stood up and looked at the young woman. "Katniss, you have the potential to be an awesome dancer. Don't let that go because you don't want to open up. You need to put feelings into your dance, need to resent the choregraphy deep down - it has to have a meeting for you, for the people watching. You have to feel, so they can be touched too." He wiped some imaginary dust from his pants, carefully avoiding looking at her. "Don't let your chance to be yourself pass, sweetheart. You don't know when or if it will come back."

Leaving her sitting on the floor, he made his way to the doors, just turning to face her before going out of the room.

"Be here on Monday. 8 AM sharp. He'll be late, he always is."

\--

Katniss knew 8 AM was long gone, but nonetheless continued her exercises at the barre, warming her muscles conscientiously, as was her habit. She did not pay attention to the light knock on the door, or the chitchat that was happening behind her.

But when she looked up in the large mirror, her left arm rising gracefully in a semi-crown above her head, she saw Haymitch talking with a blond-haired, stocky man, whose back was to her. A white tee-shirt covered his broad shoulders, and there was something almost… familiar? The way his curly hair fell over his neck gave Katniss an impression of déjà-vu. She was searching her memory, trying to recall all the new recruits the ballet had auditioned – some of which she had to dance with, but no one resembled the man in front of her.

She started wondering who he was, when she took in her own reflection. She was still in an intermediate position, as if her stance had been captured by a photographer and her legs were beginning to ache due to the lack of movements. She turned her head towards the mirror, deciding to leave the men to themselves, and focus on her moves. Her audition for Manon had been secured for next Tuesday, and there was still a lot to do – be sure her routine was perfect, a complete rehearsal with the costume she'll have to wear, and breaking in a new pair of pointes – just in case.

Lost in her thoughts, she jumped when she heard a completely unfamiliar voice shouting in the room.

"Haymitch, old hag! It's been ages!"

Katniss' head snapped at the loud voice disturbing her daily routine. She turned, scowl already displayed on her face, to look at the new intruder. A handsome man with copper hair was hugging – yes, hugging – Haymitch. She could feel her mouth opening in surprise at the sight in front of her. Her professor was actually able to do something else than shout, and even more, he could smile. Genuinely.

"Finnick! You old brat! It's been too long!"

"Yeah, it has. But we're going to be in town for a couple months, so we'll have time to head over to Sae's. It's your turn to pay!"

"Thank you for coming, man. Appreciate it. Really."

"No worries. Is that her?" the young man – Finnick? - asked, nodding toward Katniss.

She felt the anger rise and take her over.

"Her has a name and two ears that work properly."

Finnick smiled at her, in a most certain attempt to show all his perfect white teeth.

"Awww, she's fiesty! You didn't lie, Haym!"

Haym? What? Haym???? Where did this came from??? 

"Close your mouth, Sweetheart, or you'll catch a fly. This is Finnick Odair," Haymitch nodded to the copper-haired man, "and he's a dancer. If you’re curious, you'll see him in that brand new show at the Arena." Finnick bowed down. "And this is Peeta, a dancer too."

The blond man nodded at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "We met already, the other night?" At Katniss’ incredulous frown he added, "The show on friday? With Delly?"

"Oh, yes, Peter – sorry. Peeta. But… what are you doing here?"

"Why, my dear, we came for you!" Finnick put his arm on Katniss' shoulder, hugging her closer to him. Haymitch started to chortle, as she grew more and more impatient of getting rid of the arm cradling her.

"You think Finn has a death wish, boy?" she heard her mentor whisper to Peeta.

"I'm not sure we're here to cuddle, you know? And I'm sure your charms will work ten times better on someone who would actually fall for them," Katniss said.

"Oh, that hurts!" Finnik's face contorted in a mocking pout "You were right, Haym, she's a tough one."

Taking his arm from her shoulder, Finnick cocked an eyebrow at Katniss. "Now, Sugar, will you show me your goods?" He suggestively wiggled his eyebrows.

"What?" She could feel her temper – which she barely had under control – rise more and more by the second, and it took all her willpower and years of yoga breathing not to explode right then and there. This guy was a creep.

"Oh my god, this is going to be fun!" the asshole laughed, adding fuel to her already flaming anger.

"He just wants to see how you dance, really." The deep and smooth voice was coming from the other dancer, Peeta. And by the way, what kind of parents named their child after bread?

"He could have just said so. What do you want to see?" she asked Finnick, who was resting with an elbow on the mirror, his hands tucked in his front pockets.

"Whatever you're most comfortable doing," replied Peeta, after Finnick shrugged his shoulders.

Going through her bag, she took in the various CDs she kept, most of them being orchestra bands of the ballet she wanted to practice on. Hesitating between two, she finally grabbed one of them and quickly insert it into the player. After shuffling through the tracks, she took the remote control and handed it to Haymitch.

The first sad notes came out of the speakers as Katniss took her starting position, on pointe shoes and her arms above her head. She danced the Death of the Swan until the very end, bending on her extended leg, as her arms mimicking the wings of the bird, or so she hoped, as the music died. She knew she did well, with no mistakes, and had the requisite sad face.

She slowly rose up, putting her light skirt in place and advanced toward the three men in front of her.

"So you want me to believe the thing you're the most comfortable dancing to is Swan Lake? Or you just want to impress us?"

Finnick's words cut through Katniss, as she felt her temper starting to rise.

"You said you wanted to see me dance. I danced," she answered, anger at her lips.

"No, Sugar. You executed a dance. There's a big difference," Finnick answered, turning to Haymitch. "You were right. There's a lot of work to be done. We'll be at the Arena at nine tomorrow morning. I'll secure a room so we can work."

"Wait, that's all you have to say?" Katniss asked, as she looked at Finnick shaking hands with Haymitch. He stopped suddenly, turning his head to look at her.

"I have a lot to say, but now's not the place. Or time. And, oh, take some heels for tomorrow, you'll need them."

"Heels? I don't dance in heels," she snorted.

Finnick looked straight into Katniss' eyes. "If we are to work together, you'll come wearing heels. Else, you stay here and look at yourself in your mirror. Your choice." He turned and walked to Haymitch. The fading light of the morning through the windows displayed the light dust of the hardwood floor as Katniss stayed motionless, in the middle of the room. Stunned. Shocked.

She came here, warmed her muscled for three minutes (and forty-three seconds) of dance, and he had nothing to say thing about it?

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Sugar. We both know you made the right moves. But I didn't see a dying swan, I saw a dancer. And that's what we are going to correct. We are going to make you fly, aren't we, Peet?"

Katniss had completely forgotten that Peeta was there, and she quickly looked at him,watching him nod in response to Haymitch, but all the while looking at her.

"So, we will see you tomorrow, then, Katniss. Don't forget your heels!" Both Finnick and Haymitch chuckled, finding this apparently absolutely funny.

Suddenly, something struck Katniss.

"But I don't have heels!"

Finnick's smile could only be called as radiant as the sun as he turned to Katniss.

"And that's my problem - how? We don't have the same shoe size."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My huge thanks to the amazing @akai-echo for the awesome banner and aesthetics - sometimes I feel like you just read my mind :)
> 
> And to the great @dandelion-sunset and @titaniasfics who provided such help with their beta skills and who always, always challenge me to do better.
> 
> Please do not hesitate to leave a comment / kudo - keeps the motivation.


	4. Step 4: Let's Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss starts rehearsing at the Arena with Finnick and Peeta.

"Capitol Square. Mind the gap". The toneless voice coming out of the speakers did nothing to ease Katniss' mood. She was used to walking to the Opera every morning, taking in the fresh air while going through the park just outside her building, not to travel underground in a car full of people. And full wasn't the word she would use. Overcrowded was more likely to suit the situation she was in. And she couldn't just breathe through her nose, fearing the excess of perfume, sweat, and whatever else was mixed in would make her faint. How could people stand to travel this way, every day? It was beyond her.

But thanks to her appointment at the Arena, and at nine-fucking-AM no less, Katniss was stuck in the subway, on the rush hour. And she still had three stops to go. She tried to move her numb arm from its position – currently stuck between the whitish wall and her body but soon realized it was impossible as long as the woman next to her continued to lean on her. The straps from her sports bag were cutting deep inside her palm, and she blamed, not for the first time the shoes she was carrying inside.

It took Katniss a lot of time yesterday – at least according to her own standards – to find a pair of shoes comfortable enough to dance in. Even if she had been dancing for years on her pointes, she wasn't that accustomed to wearing heels and could really not imagine what it would be like to dance in them. And she had no clue as to why she would need them. She finally borrowed a pair after begging Madge to let her look at the supply of shoes the ballet had.

"Millers's Crossing. Mind the gap.

Two more stops. She could do it. Really. She would show up, on time, perform whatever they wanted her to dance, and go back to her routine, her life. Period. No more look-alike god turned man to come her way. She would go back to her schedule that fitted her well, thank you very much. She didn't have time for this, and wasn't even sure she needed whatever this Finnick guy or Haymitch were talking about. She was a good dancer – a perfectionist, and would achieve her goal. She promised Prim a long time ago, and she intended to keep her word.

"Snow Tower. Mind the gap."

Katniss started to gather and check her belongings, making sure she didn't forget anything. She silently thanked her thin dancer frame as she tried to get as close as possible to the doors of the subway to be able to exit quickly and find her way towards the Arena.

"Arena. Mind the gap."

The door opened with a swoosh, letting the thin flow of person out of the subway car, taking Katniss with them.

She found herself half dragged, half carried onto the platform, searching for directions. Based on the fact that the station was named after the theater, she guessed pretty much every exit would guarantee she would find the Arena. Only she wasn't about to go into it through the front glass door, but rather by the artist's entry where she was supposed to meet Finnick. She decided on a whim, to follow the green exit signs – and no, it had nothing to do with green being her favorite color.

Katniss soon realized this was a mistake, as the green exit took her on the other side of the street, just in front of the main gates of the Arena. Even from a short distance, the building was impressive, all covered in shining glasses which reflected ight in every single direction.

She had never danced there, the Panem Ballet motsly performing on the stage of their opera, or when they were on tour, on some of the most known stages around the world.

She sighed as she took in the very busy street in front of her, waiting for the street lights to turn red so she could cross it. She was still wondering why she didn't think of putting her earbuds to listen to music while making the trip here, when she felt her hand on her shoulder. She immediately tensed at the contact, surprised.

"Katniss?" the voice was incredulous, with a hint of wonder."Yes, it's you, but, what are you doing here? The Opera is on the other side of Panem!"

Don't I know it...

"Delly!"Katniss took a step back, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the perky blonde bear hug. "You're crushing me!"

"Sorry! Oh god, I didn't hurt you right? I'm sorry, I'm such a hugger"

"No, it's okay, I'm okay." Katniss took a deep breath, making sure her lungs were still working properly . How could people be so affectionate?

"But, Katniss... what are you doing here? I mean, it's not that I don't want to see you, or that you can't be here, but .. I'm surprised, right ? I didn't expect to see you, that's all!"

"I have an appointment with a Finnick Odair Does his name sound familiar?"Katniss asked, looking at the light signaling she could cross the street – and not worth trying in the early morning rush. This all was stupid. She wasn't even sure she remembered the name correctly, and still wondered what she would be learning. Wearing heels. As if dancing with another pair of shoes could change a thing.

"Finnick Odair? Sure, everybody knows him ! I'll come with you! Don't you dare take him away from us, okay ?"

"Why would I try? I'm not here to steal him from you, don't worry. I just need a few words with him and then I'll be done."

"I was kidding, Katniss. Come now, I'll show you in."

Delly took hold of Katniss' arm – much to her dismay – chatting about everything that seemed to cross her mind, from the dreadful weather to the name of the next royal baby, and all this in the few seconds it took them to cross the street and head towards the stage door of the Arena.

"Let me have just two minutes, and I'll take you to Finn's room, if you want?"

Katniss nodded her agreement, glad someone could guide her in the maze that was every largetheater's backstage. She took off her coat, and carefully looked around. The whole building was breathing in its novelty, and hadn't gotten yet that touch of use the older places had. Everything was almost shining, from the white walls to the simple, practical lamps hanging from the ceilings. The corridor in front of her, clearly lit, had indications written everywhere, directing people towards the lockers, the rehearsal rooms, and the technical places. But, despite the newness, there was also this unmistakable feeling of work. Smells of sweat and fabrics, sounds of shoes and the mechanics being used, the rushing of people passing by. It was as much as the opera, a place where hard work and perfection were required.

"You ready? You need to change, maybe?" Delly asked, making Katniss jump at the sound of her voice.

"No, why would I change?"

"Well, usually the women that come to see Finnick do wear a lot less clothes."

What the hell am I doing here? Was the first thing that came to Katniss' mind, her eyes becoming round at the implication of what Delly told. The blond woman must have noticed her face blushing and her eyes threatening to jump out of their orbits.

"NO!No, I didn't mean it like that! Oh god? I'm such a klutz with words! No, Katniss... sorry, it's not what I meant!" Delly was bright red, moving her hands in front of her mouth, as if to stop the rambling of words.

Katniss put her coat back on, deciding she didn't need any more humiliation, but Delly was too fast for her, and took her arm.

"Listen, Katniss. What I meant was that when Finnick teaches classes, usually he makes the women wear dresses, or at least a skirt, so it's easier for them to move around. That's all. Oh, my, Annie would kill me !"

Still on her guard, Katniss lowered her coat onto her arm.

"Well, he didn't tell me to come wearing a skirt, or a dress. And who is Annie?"

"Finnick's wife. Can I show you to the room? I have a rehearsal in a few minutes, and I stillneed to get ready..."

"Sure. Thank you for showing me, Delly."

"Not a problem. It's not far away from where I go." She grabbed her bag, and showed Katniss the corridor in front of them, before turning on the right. At another fork – this place was definitely a maze, thought Katniss – Delly showed her a door.

"Finnick is in Cherry room." Seeing Katniss turn, a sign of surprise on her face, she quickly added "Don't ask. Every room as a fruit name. We don't know why, maybe the architect was a fruitarian? I have to go,, hope we'll meet again soon!" Waving, she started walking quickly in the other direction towards the "Stage – Lemon – Cranberry" places.

Katniss stared at the door, marked with a "CHERRY" sign on it and took a deep breath to settle her now beating too fast heart, and gathering all the courage she could manage. She still had no clue as to what she was supposed to be doing with this Finnick guy, and how long it would take. She hoped it wouldn't be too long, as she had a rehearsal this afternoon with a group of dancers.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door before making her way into the room.

Skin. Lots of skin. That's what came straight to her mind as she pulled up short, still holding the doorknob in her left hand, her breath catching.

And Muscles. Lots of muscles. Lean, neat lines outlined the ridges of the muscles on two backs, moving side by side in complex moves. One was the color of bronze, the drops of sweat making the muscles shine with each passing movement of the arm. And on the right the fair skin of the other man, shoulders seemingly fixed while the man's torso was swaying, highlighting the man's dorsals.

They were dancing in sync, their left arms bent at the elbow in front of them while their other arm was in crown above their head. But the real piece of work of the choreography their feet, moving at the exact same speed and with a precision only gained by hours of work.

Working in a ballet company, Katniss was used to seeing shirtless men on a regular basis, even on stage. But this was a sight of its own. Two handsome men, moving side by side in sync, to a sexy latino music, oblivious to the rest of the world, lost in their routine.

"Yes, like that, and then the girls come in. What'ya think?" the bronze guy – Finnick, Katniss remembered – asked. She hadn't even noticed the music had stopped.

"Maybe change something before the banderillas, you know? Make it more … torero ? And we should get rid of the flamenco taps, seriously. It makes no sense with only the two of us." Peeta had a deep warm voice, and Katniss realized it was the first time she had heard him say more than two words. Apparently he could make sentences.

"Not so sure about that, bro."

"Yeah, I know you like your flamenco, but seriously ? Maybe with the girls, in the second part? "

"Or in both parts?"

"Finn …."

"Yeah, okay, but let's try this in costume, and have Octavia film us, then we'll see." Finnick walked towards the stereo, grabbing a bottle on his way, catching sight of Katniss.

"But we have company! Come here, Sugar! You're right on time"

Katniss had finally stepped inside, walking silently towards one of the benches at the deep end of the room, putting down her coat and sports bag.

"Well, hello to you too. Shall we start ?"

"Eager, much?" his answer was immediate, complete with a smirk that showed dimples Katniss was sure women fawned over. But she had seen so much of perfect male bodies to let it impress her, and turned to the bench nearby, only noticing the other man – Peeta, was already putting on an undershirt while Finnick remained shirtless, drinking from his blue Tupperware bottle.

After unlacing her leather boots, she started getting rid of the layers of clothes she had put on in the morning, to find herself in her leotard and grey short dance shirt, her dance trousers turned at the waist, as they should be. She was taking one of her pairs of demi-pointes out of her bag when a hand on her arm stopped her.

"I hope you brought your heels, Dearie. We won't be using your kind of things here. And next time, bring a dress!"

"You're awfully confident there will be a next time!"

"There will be several next times, Everdeen. Until Haymitch agrees that you have improved, you're to come here twice a week. Didn't he tell you?" Finnick's eyes were shining with the joy of catching her off guard. "Well, he must have forgotten to forward you the memo, then. Anyway. Put your heels on, and we'll start. You're mine," he turned on himself, arms extended, as if he was giving her a complete tour of the dance room, "well, ours every Tuesday and Thusdays from nine to twelve. Make sure to clear your schedule!"

"Yours? Twice a week? Are you kidding me ? I have betterthings to do than shake my ass on your crazy music! I didn't sign up for this!"

"Well, I signed for you, sweetheart."

Haymitch's voice broke Katniss out of her rant, and she turned to find her mentor leaning against the doorjamb of the room, watching the exchange in front of him, a smirk on his face.

"And -"

Haymitch was near her and taking her arm in the span of an instant. He lead her to the corner of the room, away from the ears of the two men, who were staring at them.

"Now you listen to me sweetheart! You can scowl at me all you want, but you'll listen. You'll come here for as long as you need until you can actually dance with your guts. Until you can feel. FEEL. FEEL, Katniss. You can't stay in your ivory tower forever and pretend the world doesn't touch you. Or you're going to end up completely alone. I'm here and you're here because I believe in you. I saw something in you, and I know you can go far beyond the Panem Ballet – if you just let yourself go. So you'll come here and practice with Finn and Peeta for as long as it takes to crack that nut open. If you don't, I'll make sure you'll find no position in any company in this country. Understood?"

"You ... you can't do that!" she whispered, fire and desdain in her voice.

"I can, and I will. You don't realize the potential you have, Katniss. I do. And it kills me to see you waste it. So for once, you'll dance, and have fun dancing. It changes everything. And don't worry about your schedule, I cleared it with Effie. I swear it will do you good. And in the end, you'll have learnt the salsa. Always useful in a nightclub to wiggle that ass of yours! "

"Haymitch! "

"What? I've been young too, I remember what it's like!" He carefully removed his hands. "Now take off your shoes, grab your heels, and go dancing. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"You'd better, Haymitch."

The older man winked at her, letting his hand drop to his side, and turned to the two men on the other side of the room. They both had put their t-shirts back on, and were watching the pair curiously.

"You ready, Everdeen?"

"No. But do I have a choice?"

She got rid of her demi-pointes shoes, grabbed her bag and began searching through it for the pair of heels that were inside, before finally extracting them.

"You're going to dance with that?" Finnick's voice made her jump. He was right next to her, and took hold of the shoes she had in her hands. "That will do for today. But you'll have to invest in a real pair of dancing shoes, okay? You need to have your feet correctly strapped, just like with your lovely pink slippers and ribbons. We don't want you to sprain your ankle or anything, right?" His voice was pure honey, but she could hear the kindness and concern behind. "You'll go to Vanlort this afternoon, I'll give them a call. It's like the Ollivander shop for dancers like us."

She nodded, still reliving her talk with Haymitch. He was believing in her. This was an opportunity for her to get better, not the other way around. But letting her walls fall and letting people see the true Katniss... that was scary as hell. The sound of the door slamming took her out of her reverie. Haymitch had left the room.

"So Katniss, what's your poison?"

She turned to Finnick, startled at his question. Poison? What was she drinking? She will not have to drink, right?

"Oh, the scowl's back ! No, Sugar, I didn't mean that kind of poison. What music do you listen to when you're not doing your entrechats and girly thingies? When you go clubbing? Which concerts do you go to?"

Oh. Clubbing.

Going to clubs. Like going out to dance again, after a whole day of dancing? Nope, not happening. It hadn't happened in a long time.

Going out usually meant a walk in the park, a coffee and meal at Sae's. Or going to this tiny bookshop on the corner of Elm and Green.

"I don't do clubbing. I dance enough during the day. And as for what I like, whatever's on the radio, I guess."

Peeta and Finnick shared an incredulous look. "You don't go dancing for fun?" the blonde man asked.

Katniss shrugged. "No, what the use? I spend my days on my feet, dancing and dancing, the last thing I want in the evening or on my days off is to dance again."

"There is no use, really ..."

She cut Finnick short." You see. My point. NO use at all."

"It's about being free. It's about doing what you love. It's about breaking the rules for an evening, and having fun doing so. It's about losing yourself to the music alone or with others, it's about just living in the moment without caring what will happen tomorrow, or what happened today. It's about making any move you want, from the smartest to the goofiest. It's about being free, Katniss. That's the use of music, of dance. Of any kind of art. Losing yourself into it. That's what it's about."

Peeta's words cut through Katniss, stopping her short. Losing herself to the music? Feeling?

"You rehearsed your speech with Haymitch or what?" she snapped.

"What do you mean?" he looked like in surprise.

"He gave me the same sort of speech not ten minutes ago! What is this crap about feeling? Really? You think I'm an ice-queen?"

She turned, her cheeks red from her anger, and made her way to the corner of her room where her equipment was resting and started packing everything. Grabbing the handles of her sports bag, she made her way to the door.

"You know what? I have feelings. But did it occur to you I don't want to share them with you? I knew I shouldn't have come!"

Just before slamming the door shut, she heard Finnick's voice . "That's good, Katniss. Anger. Try to work on this and see you on Thursday!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that read, followed and reviewed :) If you liked, I'd love to hear from you :)
> 
>  
> 
> My endless thanks to ct522 and dandelion-sunset for their beta skills on this story. They help me so much to make everything better :)
> 
> Banner and aesthetics on tumblr are done by the awesome akai-echo. She's so talented I can't believe she takes time to do so many things for me :)


	5. Step 5: One, two, three Come on, Baby.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss starts her sessions with her new trainers. Find out how it goes :)

Anger?

This wasn't anger. This was... something else. But definitely not anger. Because it would mean that somehow this redheaded asshole had succeeded in hurting her. And she would not allow that.

This was... despise. Disgust. Yeah, that was much better. She would take derision then.

Katniss was leaning against the wall, just outside the room she had just escaped. Her heart was beating way too fast for her liking, and her palms were sweating. Her knees might be shaking too. But she had to gather herself, to get out of this damned maze of a theater as quickly as possible. Like now. If only she could find the exit. And nothing was helping. Did she come by the Strawberry rooms or by the Apple? Who the hell was mad enough to name rooms as damned fruits?

She grabbed her bag from the floor where it fell on, and took her hair out of the bun she had made, letting her dark long locks fall down her neck. Relief started to pour into her as she waved her hands through her mane, undoing the few knots she kept finding in it.

"And what are you doing out of the room?"

She didn't hear her teacher approach, and she jumped at his voice.

"Caught you red-handed, right? You already ran away?" He approached the door, turning the doorknob with his left hand and showing the way inside the room with his right.

"So, Finn, who won? How long did she last?"

"What? I'm not going back inside, Haymitch. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

"Oh, and what did they do to anger you?"

"I'm not angered!"

"Sure you aren't. So, let me guess. Finn called you on your bullshit, and you didn't listen, right? How surprising is that."

The door to the room was completely open now, and Katniss could see the two men sitting on the floor, their backs to the wall, bottles in hand.

"Now, Katniss, you have a choice. You suck your anger up and come back inside today, and every scheduled meeting, or you go back to the Opera and continue pretending you can be the best with only your technique. Which every one of us in this room knows but you. Hell, everyone in the ballet knows it! Why do you think you're still a notable? With that technique of yours you should have been a principal by now. So make up your mind quickly, girl. Because time is not in your favor, sweetheart. Tick Tock."

Katniss watched Abernathy walk away to the two other men in the room, offering his arm to help them stand up. The words she just heard cut through her, painfully. She didn't need any reminder that she was one of the oldest – if not the oldest – notable dancer in the ballet, but that was because the others were helped by their families or the teachers to go higher, wasn't it? She knew she was one of the dancers with the best technique in her steps, but surely it was the other dancers who blocked her rise into the hierarchy out of jealousy, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

Or was she just blinded by her own jealousy, as to not notice she was the one lacking what it needed to get promoted?

And all of a sudden, in the entry of the Cherry room of the Arena Theater, it all came back to her. The small remarks the teachers had told her over the years: "More feeling, Katniss, please", "Can you show me pain here?", "Maybe a little more emotion, and less technique?". The side looks, the shaking of heads after a particularly complex pas de deux she knew she had aced. It all came back, crashing on her, each memory a blow in the carefully built walls she had been raising for years.

She was twenty-four-years-old, and only a notable dancer, with no hope of becoming more if... if she didn't allow herself to open up. If she didn't put more of herself inside the dance. Unless she just started feeling, again.

"The next step you take will either be the toughest you'll ever make, or just another escape. Your choice, Katniss." Haymitch’s voice came as a whisper in her ear.

Maybe it was the kindness in his voice, maybe it was the realization, as Katniss released a breath she didn't know she was holding, and let the air feel her lungs again, cleaning her from the inside.

She crossed the threshold. Took that step.

"I trust you, Haymitch. I hope I'm right."

"You did the right thing, sweetheart. Now that the show is over, maybe you can get started?"

She nodded, taking deep breaths to settle her quivering hands.

"Let's get this show on."

Katniss returned to the bench she used before, taking out of her sports bag the pair of high heels she had brought, before going to the three men waiting for her.

"So. Can we start now?" Finnick extended his hand, and she grabbed it to keep her balance as she was putting her shoes on.

"Yeah. Sorry for..."

"Don't worry. We better start, now. And don't forget. Vanlort, on the corner of 4th and Empire."

"What will you have me doing precisely?"

"Well, you didn't answer us regarding your choice of music .... so to cheer everybody up, let's salsa!"

"Salsa! But? I don't know how to dance the salsa!"

Finnick took her hand and led her to the center of the room, never taking care of her evident discomfort with the dance mentioned.

"Peeta? Let's go!"

A heartbeat later, music started pouring out of the speakers, a song Katniss never heard before, but evidently designed to be danced to. Whistles, loud percussions, piano, and brass were all mixed into an appealing sound.

"And you're going to want me to shake my ass, I bet?"

"Nope, I want you to move with the music. Ready?"

Katniss didn't realize Finnick wasn't looking at her until she felt two sets of hands on her. Finnicks; grabbing her right arm and positioning his other on her waist, and another one, grabbing her hips and starting to sway her to the music.

She broke immediately from the embrace she was in and turned, a blush rushing to her cheeks as quickly as her temper rose.

"I didn't agree to be groped! What do you think you're doing?!" She looked at Peeta with so much fire in her eyes he would swear years later she nearly killed him.

She was nearly blinded by Finnick's white-as-fuck smile as he came in front of her

"What? You didn't see Dirty Dancing? The scene with Penny and Johnny dancing with Baby?" He then turned to Peeta, who was standing near him. "I mean, it's every chick's must-see movie, right? With the dancing, the love story, Patrick Swayze sweating?"

"And?" Katniss' anger was rising more and more.

"And don't forget the dances, Finn... The cha-cha, the pachanga...." Peeta continued, seemingly oblivious to the young woman in front of him.

"We are not groping you, Kat. I'm just helping you find the rhythm. Definitely not groping, that would be Finn's speciality, not mine."

"Oh, Peeta, such a gentleman...." Laughing, Finnick took hold of Katniss' hand and she reluctantly followed his lead.

"Come on, Sugar, loosen up a bit. We're here to have fun! Don't you know how many girls would love to take your place? I know Peeta's not that hot, but well, you've got at least one specimen of a gorgeous man dancing with you." Finnick leaned closer, whispering: "It's just his hands on your hips. Nothing more. I swear. Now, relax, and enjoy the ride."

-

"Okay, folks. From the start. Plié, plié, cambré, ronds de jambes, tendus, fourth position and to start. Then we'll go to the 'deep stuff', as usual."

Katniss took hold of the barre again, as Kristina, the ballet mistress, enunciated the exercises the dancers were to make. They all started the same way, every day. Exercises at the barre, then centre practice, until the dancers were dispatched in groups or for solo lessons. It was part of their ritual, to continue learning, and maintain a very high level of technicity. 

Katniss Everdeen was no stranger to pain. Hours and hours of training, of dancing on pointe shoes, of bending on barres, of stretching the muscles to the extreme, had toughened her. But as her alarm rang this morning, she found out that she still had a lot to learn about it. Her arm was uncomfortable at the elbow from hours of being bent in the same position. Her waist and hips were hurting too, as well other muscles she’d only just discovered existed. And she didn’t even want to try and put her feet on the ground. She was pretty sure the soles were definitely marked and her toes would never find their initial position. But well, this would sure help for the pointes.

But there was no way she would show her discomfort or pain in this room today, in the middle of a class. And she didn't even want to think about her afternoon group class, a rehearsal of Ravel's Bolero that Plutarch decided to add just in case it would fit in the program. Bejart's choreography wasn't the most difficult she'd performed, but required so much concentration and strength – and she wanted to ace it, to prove she could do it, with the whole "put your feelings into what you're doing" comments. Whatever. Her elbow was aching as she held her arms in a crown over her head. Damned joints, she didn't think it could hurt so badly.

And then, somehow, she was glad it did. She found it somehow refreshing that after years of habit, that there were still some moves that could surprise her. It was... good? She didn't know yet.

"Katniss? You're with us?" Tania's voice broke her from her reverie. She looked around, taking in the rest of the class casually waiting for the next routine, and realized she was still in demi-plié, having completely forgotten to go on with the moves.

"Yes, sorry Madame. Won't happen again."

Blushing she quickly straightened to pay attention to the ballet mistress. She didn't want to make herself stand apart, to have the others notice her ports de bras weren't as smooth and fluid as they used to be. That's a lesson learned very early in ballet – don't show your weaknesses if you want to survive.

"Take the barres out, now please. And to the center. We'll raise the difficulty, right? It's Wednesday, and it's a beautiful day. Start in fifth, assemblé, fifth, entrechat, pas de chat, petit saut, and fifth. First rank, starting. Music, please, Martyna."

The grapes of notes fell from the pianist hands, and Katniss watched the first dancers position themselves before starting the routine. They would be working on the jumps today, if Tania's exercises were any clue. Just what Katniss needed after yesterday.

"And second rank please. Take your position!"

Standing quickly, Katniss tied back the bow of her little dance skirt and checked her bun – she obstinately refused to have her thick mane of hair cut – for strands that would have escaped and took her place on the third rank.

"Third, floor's yours!"

Fifth position. Katniss raised her hands, crossed her feet, and started her routine. And she'd definitely been right. The soles of her feet hurt like hell. Thirty-eight minutes to go. She sighed.

"Fourth rank, up to you, my dears."

-

Katniss looked at the phone in her hand, as if it would magically give her the answer to her burning question. She needed the name of the shoe shop Finnick had told her about yesterday, but in the name of everything that was holy in her world – her sister, cheese buns, and anything chocolate related – she couldn't remember it. Just that it was somehow the Ollivander of their dancing, but that would be of no help, even by Google standards.

And she didn't want to call Finnick, or text him, not ready to go through another round of innuendos. Not today. Not after the hell of a class this morning – Kristina was always the worst ballet mistress, but damn if it didn't help them so much – and certainly not before a complete afternoon of Ravel. The only perk being she was in a group with some of her favorite co-workers.

But right now, she needed that name. Scrolling through her contacts, she found what she was looking for and dreaded at the same time. Finnick Odair.

But wait – she had another option! Mellark, Peeta was just above. And even though her interactions with the blonde had not been as numerous as with Finnick, she could just ask him! Problem solved!

With a grin, she went straight to the message icon.

Katniss: Hey Peeta, it's Katniss? From the Opera? I was hoping you could help me with something?

There it was. Perfect. Nothing too friendly or too cold. Neutral.

She fiddled with her phone, expecting an answer before her next rehearsal came in.

"KitKat, what's up? You ready for this afternoon?"

The broad-chested Thresh Randall sat down on the seat next to Katniss's, putting his tray beside her own.

"How's the meatloaf? Any good?"

"It's okay. Not as good as the chicken yesterday, but yes, it's good. And no, I'm not ready. Really not looking forward to that."

"Oh? Why? I love the bolero, such a complex dance, you know?"

"Complex? It's basically all the same moves...."

"It is, but it's much more than that... you become the music!"

"I become the what?"

"The music, Katniss. The soloist is the music. The dancers are the rhythm. The music starts slowly, with the flute, that simple little line that could be nothing. And then, it grows, it becomes louder and louder, it takes more and more place, and you have to give so much more to exist, to not be overflowed by the music. You have to become the music. It's not a matter of steps, it's a matter of music."

Katniss stared at her partner, wondering what in the hell he was talking about.

"If you say so, Thresh."

Her phone buzzed on the table.

Peeta: Sure? What can I do? Besides killing Finnick?

Katniss: We wouldn't want you in jail, right? No, I forgot the name of the shoe shop?

Peeta: Thank you! It's easy enough. Vanlort. On the corner of 4th and Empire.

Katniss: Thanks, I'll drop by there tonight.

Peeta: When? I have to go myself, we could meet there? I could help you?

Katniss: You don't have to do that, don't worry.

Peeta: No problem. See you there at 6? Is it okay for you?

Katniss: Yeah. Thanks

Peeta: No problem. Gotta go, see you later!

“That was quite a chat you just had. Anything interesting there, KittyKat?" Thresh’s raised an eyebrow suggestively, a smile eating his face. "What's his name? Where does he work? How old is he?"

"Oh no, don't go all brother-protective on me, Thresh! What are you doing?"

"Calling Rue. She'll freak out... Hey babe! Guess what?"

"THEODORE RUSSEL RANDALL PUT THAT PHONE DOWN!!!"

He rolled his eyes, not afraid for a second of Katniss' shout.

"Yeah, that was Katniss. She wanted to keep it quiet, but now the entire cafeteria's looking at her. I'll tell you tonight.... yes, I miss you too!"

Her cheeks blushing, Katniss didn't even have to look around to know the whole place was staring at her. She was usually the quiet type, eating her lunch on her own, or sometimes with Madge, and on rare occasions with a fellow dancer, at her designated table on the far edge of the brightly lit room. But right now she couldn't blame the sun pouring in from the large double windows for the coloring on her face, and she knew it.

"Aw, come on, Katniss, tell me who it is?"

She didn't want to answer him, didn't want to share that piece of her life. That would put her so out of her comfort zone.

But a small voice sounding ridiculously like Haymitch's was insistent in her head. She should open up, or at least try to. She took an internal deep breath, because there was no need to show Thresh this was a big deal for her before taking the plunge.

"Just someone who helped me find an address. Nothing more."

"Ahem. And does that someone have a name?"

Gathering her tray, now bearing only the remnants of her lunch, she rose from her chair.

"I know it sounds incredible, but he indeed has one. Now, I’ve got to go, we're up for the bolero in ten minutes, Theodore…"

"I told you not to call me that!"

"And I told you not to call me KittyKat, and yet, here we are! Guess you'll meet me for rehearsals," she said, her eyes on his tray, still full of food.

There, she had done it. She had talked about herself a little. And it hadn’t hurt her. It hadn't been that difficult to share things.

And she didn't feel bad about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a chapter every Monday from now on (until February ...)
> 
> My deepest thanks to three amazing persons who believe in me way more than I do:
> 
> @akai-echo - who makes the amazing banner and aesthetics. She has so much talent, I’m amazed by it every day.
> 
> @titaniasfics and @dandelion-sunset who not only make me the great honor to beta for me, but also cheer up on me constantly :) Thank you, so so much!
> 
> if you liked please comment :)


	6. Chapter 6: The Shop Around the Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to invest in dancing shoes for Katniss. And drink hot chocolate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My huge thanks to my team of Betas Extraordinaires - @titaniasfics and @dandelion-sunset who support me every step of the way and have enough patience to correct my mistakes.
> 
> My deep thanks to the awesome @akai-echo for her amazing skills, and talent in the creation of the banner and aesthetics :) she’s awesome :)
> 
> Your words and reviews, comments, give me the will to go on publishing this story - and writing another one. So if you liked it, please say it :)

"Corner of Empire and 4th, please." Katniss hurried inside the taxi to avoid the cold air of the evening. Her feet ached--, one sore sole and blisters on the edge of the others, thanks to her session with Finnick and Peeta in uncomfortable shoes --and she didn't want to face the walk to the other side of the West End. She did not indulge taking cabs usually, but today was a force majeure. Tomorrow, she would go back to the Arena again, and she would have proper dance shoes,with comfortable footings in them, and tights with reinforced soles.

Katniss could see the fading sun coating the buildings in its orange light, outlying the details of their carefully carved façades, playing a game of light and shadows with the wrought iron railing of the balconies. This part of town was utterly beautiful, and the avenue leading to the Opera was maybe the coziest of all.

Music was pouring out of the speakers of the taxi. Music, again. She had her fill of it for today, hearing Ravel's bolero too many times, to fix the position of an arm, of her head, or of Thom's bloody left foot. They were both to perform the piece at a show next month, in a presentation set for all the high schools of Panem, one of Plutarch's new ideas to attract people to come and watch ballet. They would also have to perform on the scene for journalists and critics, on the opening evening of the new season.

Ravel's was one of the first to be displayed, the masterpiece being part of the most classical ballets like Giselle and the Nutcracker. Weirdly, nothing out of the Swans this year – which was surprising, as every Director of Dance she had seen had always wanted to have the Swans the year they were appointed - to display their knowledge. Nonetheless, she was quite happy with being picked for the Bolero, with Thresh, one of her favorite principal dancers. His sturdy frame and muscled legs were a contrast to her thin shape, but when he started to dance, it was like everything in him came to life. Gone was the big clumsy man – only the graceful dancer remained.

She had seen it herself, that time and time again, as he repeated the same moves over and over, the intensity was building. In the last repeat of the routine, he had really exploded, breathing heavily, and almost lost to the world around him. Katniss watched him, eyes wide open, wondering how he could manage that.

That's really when it hit her, when she understood perfectly what her problem was. She performed, nothing more. She did not impersonate the music or the dance, she didn't commit enough of herself in her work. No, this shouldn't be work anymore. Dancing had once been her passion, and that's what she needed to find again. The little flame that made her dance for hours in front of her mirror in the bedroom she had shared with Prim, the little flame that made her watch every dance show she could put her eyes on, the little flame that turned into an inferno when she learnt she had been selected to join the ranks of Panem's Opera.

But somewhere, along the way, the flame had gone out, extinguished by her desire to become the best dancer... for her sister, her only family now, to be able to provide Prim with everything she wanted. And that's exactly what she did. She worked her ass off, taking every contract authorized out of the ballets she was in, dancing until her legs were shaking and her head was dizzy – but earning enough money to send Prim to med school.

Only to lose herself in the process.

"Thank you, Haymitch,” she whispered to the windows of the cab, taking her to the more animated part of town - the beating heart of Panem.

She finally understood what her professor had tried to explain to her. But be damned if she knew how she could achieve it.

-

Of course, she was late. The cab had been stuck in the usual 5 PM traffic jams, or what she assumed were the 5PM traffic jams, which made her leave the vehicle on the other end of 4th Avenue. Clutching her bag, she hastily walked along the pavement, escaping the groups of teenagers and the clumsy passersbys. She didn't think the street would be so long and just hoped she could make it to the shop before it closed for the day. Quickly looking at her watch, she realized she was already fifteen minutes late and no way close to being done with that bloody long street. Peeta would surely not have waited for her in the cold evening air, and she hoped she'd find someone to help her, even though it shouldn't be that hard to find a pair of shoes.

Finally, after another five minutes of walking through the crowd, she reached the end of the avenue. Turning around, she realized Vanlort was indeed on the corner of 4th and Empire, but on the other corner, the one on the other side of the street. And of course, traffic wasn't helping. At all.

She was waiting as patiently as she could for the little man to turn green and allow her to cross that damned avenue when she spotted a mop of blond hair she seemed to recognize.

"Come on!" she whispered to the street light, impatiently shuffling from one foot to the other, until finally the light turned green. She ushered through the crowd, finally reaching the corner, hurrying to the man waiting there.

"Peeta! I'm so sorry for being late! There was so much traffic. I had the cab drop me at the end of 4th, but of course, it was the wrong end and–"

"It's okay, Katniss. I was late too. I was just starting to wonder whether I had been stood up or not."

"What? No! I would have texted you or--"

"It's okay. Shall we go in now? We don't have much time left before it closes."

Peeta opened the door, and with a movement of his hand, signaled to Katniss that she should go inside.

Well, maybe it could be hard to find a pair of shoes, she thought, taking in the small shop filled to the brim with thousands of boxes of shoes.

"These are all dancing shoes?" she whispered, amazed by the number of shelves bending under the weight.

"We call it Ollivander for a reason..." Peeta suddenly stopped, a slight frown appearing between his eyebrows. "You know who Ollivander is, right?"

"Yes, I am familiar with the Harry Potter world, thank you very much."

Katniss started wandering through the shelves, looking at a pattern to find the right size, but apparently, everything had been thrown up there haphazardly with no classification at all. This would be tricky.

"I thought I would just have to grab a pair and pay, you know, but I can't seem to find my shoe size anywhere?"

"That's what I'm here for, sweet child," a deep but feminine voice startled Katniss. She hadn't heard anyone coming through the door, the jingling bells would have signaled it. Turning, she saw a woman leaning against the nearest shelf, a cigarette in hand, and wearing the most extravagant outfit she had ever seen – and she worked with Effie Trinket.

An orange shirt, covered in yellow stripes, with unmatching pink jeans, and a pair of green flip-flops – quite odd for a shoe seller, right?

"Name's Edna. You need dance shoes? You'll be dancing with Golden Boy?"

"Golden Boy?"

"Edna gives nicknames to everybody. I'm Golden Boy, Delly is LoveChild." Peeta had followed her inside the maze of shelves.

"Do I want to know what Finnick is?"

"Oh, you know of Seaweed too?"

"Oh god, Seaweed? That's Finnick nickname?" She turned to Peeta for confirmation.

"What can I say?" He raised his hands in defeat "He eats a lot of them, pretends it helps him keep–and I quote–'his Apollo-like body'. His words, not mine. It sure is disgusting to see him with them at lunch, trust me."

"Yuck! Seaweed? Really? I just can't stand them!"

"I hear you – it's just disgusting, you know? And the smell – horrendous. People leave the room when he opens his lunchbox, I swear." Peeta started laughing, and his laugh took over his entire face, from the corner of his mouth to his eyes, making them bluer than Katniss thought was possible.

"Well, let's get back to business, shall we? Who will it be for?"

"That would be for her, I'm just here to pick my own. She's new to ballroom, you know."

"But not new to dancing, are we, SweetChild?"

"My name is Katniss, and no, I'm not new to dancing."

"Ballet, right?" Katniss nodded, somehow impressed at the woman's insight. " It's written all over your body. The way your hand hangs, how you walk without making any sound, your feet... easy enough to read if you pay attention. Now, you're a 7'5, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I can't make a piqué or an arabesque, but I'm good in feet and shoes. Lucky for me, I own a shoe shop." Edna turned to one of the shelves, grabbing several boxes here and there. It seemed to Katniss that the storage didn't have any defined system, or maybe Edna was taking boxes haphazardly. She just couldn't figure out how the old woman could be so sure she had the right shoes in the boxes.

"Come over, we'll sit down. You'll try them on, and we'll find the right ones."

Edna opened a box, and inside was a pair of heeled sandals with a thin strap over the ankle.

"Try them on, would you?"

"But they’re pink! I'm not wearing pink shoes!"

"We need to find your brand, SweetChild. We'll find your color later."

"My brand?"

"There are a lot of shoe brands, just like there are lots of pointes and tutus. But surely, you have a favorite?" Katniss nodded. It took her a long time to find the right pair of ballet pointes, going through brands until she found the one that didn't hurt her with the seams, or whose ribbons didn't cut her circulation too much.

"I don't need them for a professional practice, though. It's just for fun."

Edna stopped rummaging inside the boxes to face Katniss, surprise clearly etched on her face.

"SweetChild, you would tell someone trying ballet to use any kind of shoes? Shoes she's not comfortable in?"

The blush creeping onto Katniss' cheeks was an answer by itself. "Try these, and if they don’t fit, there are others." Edna's hands were full of different shoes. Katniss sighed. This would take longer than expected.

-

This must be at least the twentieth pair I’ve tried, Katniss thought, taking a pair of gold, glittering shoes. Prim would have completely loved them and begged her to buy them if she were there. With a sigh as heavy as the door of the Panem Opera, she unfastened the strap. She looked to her right at the mountain of shoes she had already tried on that for one reason or another didn't fit, to an even bigger display of shoes in front of her, waiting to be tried on. And here she thought it would only take five minutes to buy a pair of heels.

Peeta and Edna had disappeared a few minutes ago, leaving her on her own. She sighed, putting her right foot inside the golden horror in her hands. She closed the buckle of the shoe and rose from her chair. This time, though, there was no pressure compressing her foot, or letting it loose. The shoe fit perfectly.

"That's it. You found it," Edna's raw voice whispered behind her. "No need to try anything else, this is the brand you need."

"How can you tell?"

"Because you're walking in them and not trying to get rid of them as quickly as humanly possible like you did with the other pairs."

"But the color?"

"The color is golden, SweetChild."

Katniss resisted very much the need to roll her eyes, but failed miserably.

"But I'll share a secret with you." Edna came closer, a few boxes of shoes in her hands. "It doesn't matter what color the shoes are. If you dance right, nobody will care if they are purple or covered with feathers. The shoes don't make the dancer. It's the other way round."

Her boxes in hand, the old woman went to a shelf, putting the shoes on the racks as haphazardly as they were previously.

Sitting, Katniss took off the pair of heels, and quickly fastened her leather boots, trying to get rid of the image of her feet covered in glittering gold. She was glad she would never have to dance on stage with such attire.

Grabbing said horrors, she made her way to the front of the shop, avoiding the piles of boxes gathered here and there. Vanlort was really like what she imagined Ollivander could be in the Harry Potter books – messy, with a small layer of dust everywhere, warm lights, and she was damn sure that somewhere a kettle was ready to boil for a late afternoon tea. Digging through her oversized bag – yes, she needed to buy a smaller one, but this one was still fine so there was no rush – she finally reached her wallet and phone. Pulling them both out, she saw she had a few texts waiting for her, but chose to focus on where her Visa was. Because of course, the wallet was also oversized – as would the price of the shoes as well, she was sure.

"That will be $29.95, SweetChild."

What? That's almost a third of my pointes! Well, at least this dance thingy wouldn't ruin me, she thought, handing over her credit card.

"We're done?" Peeta's deep, musical voice came from behind Katniss. She quickly took her card from the old woman with one hand, stuffing it into her bag, while her other hand picked up the bag with the shoes as she turned to face Peeta.

"Yes, I think I am. Thank you for coming with me, Peeta. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Hum, oh… I mean, yes, sure. See you tomorrow morning, Katniss."

"Thanks, Edna, have a good evening."

"See you soon, SweetChild."

"It's Katniss, Edna." The young woman had already opened the door, and a swirl of cold wind swept into the shop.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

The cold air felt good on her skin, reminding her of the long days she used to spend in the woods of her hometown in West Virginia. Memories of hunting trips with her dad, of swimming in the small lake at the end of the forest with Prim, of picnics in the meadows rushed to her mind, threatening to overwhelm her – to take her back to a time when everything was perfect, when her parents were still alive.

"Katniss! Wait!"

She jumped at the sound of Peeta's voice, taking her away from her string of memories.

"What?" her voice was snarky – she really didn't want to talk right now.

"Nothing... you, uh, you forgot your phone?" He handed her the small device in its pink cover with a small chuckle.

How could she have not noticed the rose-colored covering on the counter of Vanlort? Maybe because said counter was full of colorful flyers and stickers?

"Oh. Thanks, Peeta. Sorry I was a bit…."

"Snarky? I noticed. Don't worry. But I never pegged you for someone to have a pink phone… now the golden shoes make sense!" His smile was full now, eyes sparkling in the night.

"The shoes are horrendous! And the pink, I can explain."

"Sure you can! But I'd rather not do right in the middle of Empire when it's freezing. Wanna grab a coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee."

"Spoiler alert. Me neither. But I'd love a warm tea. You in? There's a place I know not too far from here?"

"Do they have chocolate?"

"They do."

Katniss felt the familiar gesture of her hand going to her braid, which she made all the time when she wasn't dancing - tugging on the familiar end, her soothing reflex, and her way of thinking. He wasn't asking her out, right? Surely not? It was just drinking chocolate? Her brain was over-reacting, when the thought of him covering Delly's shoulders with a jacket popped in her mind. Of course, he had a girlfriend! It was just a friendly invitation.

"Wow. So much thought for a chocolate?"

"What?"

"Your frown? It looked like I asked you to solve all the world's problems. So, you want to grab a chocolate, or I'll see you tomorrow?"

She had always been a goner for chocolate.

"Let's go. But it better be good, okay?"

"Trust me, you won't regret it. It's just a block away."

-

It took them a few minutes to reach the little coffee shop, a few feet away from Empire Avenue. Only an elegant wooden sign pointed out the place, a capital ‘A’ beautifully written on it. The door next to the bow-window with white curtains, once opened revealed, a cozy place lit here and there by the fireplace, illuminating a window looking out to a garden. On some tables, in darker corners, a single, simple lamp poured out a quiet light on the flowery tablecloths. It looked like a place out of a Laura Ashley catalogue, or as if England had decided to settle in this small house of Panem. The only missing thing was a cat lingering on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

"You're sure they make chocolate here?" whispered Katniss, not wanting to break the silence with her words.

"Positive. Hey, Annie!"

"Peeta! How are you? You're out early!"

A perky young woman, around their age, Katniss thought, made her way towards them, drying her hands on her apron. She went directly to Peeta and took him in a bear hug, her small arms barely making it behind his back.

Katniss shifted from one foot to the other, keeping her eyes on the floor, not wanting to interrupt the friendly meeting. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm, and looked up to meet sea green eyes on a lovely face, surrounded by waves of brown hair.

"Annie, this is Katniss, a friend. Katniss, this is Annie Cresta, the owner."

"Odair now, Peet!"

"Sorry, Ann. Katniss, this is Annie Cresta Odair now, the owner of this little piece of comfort."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Odair."

"It's Annie. Friends of Peeta are friends of mine. Now, what can I offer you? Tea, hot chocolate? Coffee?"

"Two hot chocolates would be lovely, Annie."

"I’ll be right back then! Take whichever table you want, you're at home here."

In a whirlwind of brown waves Annie left the small room.

"Well, where do you want to sit, Katniss?"

"Hum, near the fireplace? I'm a bit cold."

"Sure, let's go."

They settled on a small table covered in pastel flowers, and the familiar crackle of the fireplace worked its magic on Katniss, relaxing her. She even took off her coat and scarf, pocketed her now recovered phone, and hoped for Peeta to break the silence before it became too uncomfortable.

"So, Katniss, what did you think of your session with us yesterday?"

"It was… weird?"

"Yeah, to say the least. Do you want to know what we’re doing next?"

"It's not Finnick that decides?"

"Well, he and I both. He might be away for a while."

"Oh?" Well, that was good news. She wasn't too keen on Finnick’s too-cocky behavior. "Nothing too bad, I hope?" There was always the threat of an injury lingering in the mind of any dancer.

Peeta chuckled.

"Not exactly, rather a work opportunity."

"Like what, he'll be on the next season of Dancing with the Stars?" she joked, images of Finnick facing the judges coming to her mind immediately.

It's not that she was an avid watcher of such a show. It's Prim who made her look at it.

Peeta's face fell at Katniss' remark.

"Who told you? It's supposed to be secret!"

"What? It's true? Oh my god! Nobody told me I swear! " She was sure her eyes could not possibly get any bigger. "I only know they've been in town for a few weeks, as we receive the info on the new casting."

"Well, yeah, he made the short-list. One of the dancers will, oh, how did they said that?" he stopped, searching through his memories for the right phrase. "Ah, yes, 'he had other obligations that weren't compatible with the schedule of the show'. In other words, one of the stars complained about her partner and they got rid of him. But don't tell anyone, Finnick shouldn't even have told us."

"Don't worry. I'm not about to let people know I actually know someone who's on that show. It doesn't fit well with ballet, you see."

"I bet. So, what piece are you working on? Oh, thanks Annie!" The woman had brought them two mugs filled with the creamiest hot chocolate Katniss had ever seen.

“You’re welcome. I added cinnamon to yours, Peeta, as usual. Katniss, is there anything you put on the top of your chocolate?”

She politely declined, not wanting to sound like the chocolate-addict she was.

“Really? Nothing? Well, just in case, here. Feel free to pick whatever you want.” Annie grabbed a plate on a table nearby, on which several small pots were placed. “You’ve got cinnamon – because this one can’t get enough of it,” she added, pointing at Peeta. “Sugar, coffee chunks, coconut, and marshmallows of course. And for the chocolate addicts, here are dark chunks.” She winked at Katniss, and without another word, left them together.

Katniss eyed the chocolate chunks with hungry eyes, their round dark and shiny forms begging her to take them.

“You can add some, Katniss. I won’t tell,” Peeta whispered.

There. In his eyes, she could see it, the understanding for her desire to add the little chunks, watch them disappear as they melt. But no, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her at her worst – in a chocolate-induced euphory. This would have to do. And maybe, the beverage wasn’t even good. Bringing the mug to her lips, she carefully blew the surface, then took a sip.

She barely contained the moan that came to her throat.

“It’s good, right? Annie makes the best chocolate in town.” Peeta’s voice was as soft as the concoction

“Do they make discount cards or anything? I’ll come here every day to drink this.” She took another sip, careful not to drink too much as to make her beverage last longer.

“I don’t know, I’ve never asked. So? What are you working on?”

“You mean, at the ballet? God, this is so awesome.” Katniss was almost ready to order another cup.

“Yeah.” Peeta smiled, watching Katniss finish the last drop of chocolate. “I guess you’re working on next season’s program, right?”

“Yeah, we started. I want to work on Manon and The Firebird. Maybe a piece in The Nutcracker. But right now, I’ll be in The Bolero.”

She suddenly realized that even if Peeta was a dancer, he may not be familiar with the pieces she described.

“I mean, they are classic ballets, but for The Bolero. It’s based on a music that’s so repetitive I sometimes lose my mind and my steps.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with it.” Looking around to make sure they were alone, he started the now familiar sound of the drum that was repeated one-hundred and sixty-nine times during the thirteen minutes of the piece.

“It’s crazy, when you think about it, really. Repeating the same musical phrase, always – there’s only the end that changes. It’s almost boring, you know?”

Peeta stopped mid-drumming, a hand up in the air while the other stayed, index pointed as he looked at Katniss in bewilderment.

“You don’t see it, do you?” he asked, quietly. She shook her head no. He sighed.

“It’s not just a repetition, see. It’s a crescendo.” Peeta straightened in his chair, before leaning his arms on the table. ”At the beginning, it’s just the flute, one of the less important instruments of the orchestra. One that nobody really cares about unless it’s given a solo. In a symphonic orchestra, who cares about the tiny silver flute? And strangely, it’s the one Ravel chose to start his masterpiece. Just as if he had taken someone out of nowhere and brought her into the spotlight. The flute just can’t mess up, you see?”

Peeta’s voice had risen from the quiet almost whisper it was before. It was now more intense, passionate maybe Katniss thought as he was going on, trying to prove its point.

“It’s the one that gives the tempo that sets the mood for the rest of the piece. If the flute fails, the others will try everything to get the piece straight, but everybody will remember her fault. So, at the start, it’s just her, the silver flute. She’s soon met by the clarinet, which supports her, who helps her grow into something a little bigger, you see, just like a couple being stronger when they are together. A kind of synergy, you see? When one plus one doesn’t equal two, but three.”

Katniss could see the passion in his blue eyes, who were no longer staring into hers, but lost to a world of music. She could almost see the notes dancing in his pupils.

“When Flute and Clarinet just don’t make the same sound, they create something else. Then, it’s back to the flute, but with the harp, the cords coming to help harmonize everything until the bassoon comes into play. And it’s the same for each instrument, every time. The next one comes to help the tiny silver flute, until the finale. The explosion. The fireworks, and then the end. Each and every instrument is another layer added to the revolution that began with the drums and the flute, making its way to the end…”

His fingers had started drumming the now familiar melody again, stumping lightly on the table, as Peeta’s eyes went back into focus, finding her own back.

“And that’s exactly what you have to do, Katniss, when you dance The Bolero. You’re the tiny flute, the one standing up, leading the orchestra – the dancers. They are the tempo, but you are the heart. You are the one making this just a dance. Or a revolution. Or nothing. You have to become the flute, the one the rest of the ballet will follow. And you’ll see, soon enough you won’t follow the tempo. You’ll be the tempo.”

Hours after she had left the coffee shop, the words Peeta had spoken remained on her mind. Like he understood the piece better than she did. Could she be the flute, the tiny silver instrument leading everyone else? Would she be strong enough to carry this?

A thought popped through her mind seconds before she fell asleep.

Haymitch wouldn’t have let her do it if he thought she couldn’t.


	7. Step 7: Dancing with ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, what about a little dancing ? And don't forget, if you liked the chapter and/or the story, please leave a message (after the tune ... )
> 
>  
> 
> See you next Monday :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My huge thanks to the amazing @titaniasfics and @dandelion-sunset for their incredible work as betas and to the beautiful, gifted @akai-echo forthe amazing work she has done with the banner and aesthetics for this story :)

Katniss couldn't remember the name of the room she was supposed to meet Finnick and Peeta in. She only knew it was a fruit. Fortunately, she managed to leave early from home, but finding the room on her own was trickier than it was with Delly's help.

Was it cherry or orange? She was sure it wasn't banana or tangerine. It was a fruit she actually liked, that she remembered. Which only left bananas out. Feeling her patience lessen by the minute, she went straight to a door – the pineapple one. Knocking lightly, she turned the doorknob and stepped into the room.

She wasn't ready for what she saw inside.

It was way too early for such a dance. Staring at each other intensely, Delly and Peeta were engaged in a heated tango. The dying plea of the accordion echoed from the speakers, as Delly's legs, intertwined with her partner's. From her position at the door, Katniss realized how Delly was relying on her partner to support her – she was now on the toes of her feet, lengthening as Peeta stepped back, holding her weight with his upper body. Katniss' technical eye took in the force that was needed to do something seemingly effortlessly and on rhythm, and lead her partner. She also realized the amount of trust needed between the partners to accomplish such difficult exercises.

"You think you can lower more?" Peeta's baritone voice covered the music as he helped Delly

to her feet. "And maybe add a volcada?"

"Well, it's worth trying, right? From the bridge? Do we do the sentadas?"

"Yup. That's what Finn wants."

"Both times?"

"He's the boss! Oh, hi, Katniss." Peeta had finally noticed the young woman staring at them. "Come in, we can use a fresh eye, if you have five minutes to spare?"

"I don't want to intrude, really. I can't find the room I'm supposed to go, I don't remember the fruit."

"It's nine already?" Peeta searched above her head, looking for the clock that seemingly was placed above the door of each dancing room she’d ever been in.

"No, I'm early."

"So you don't mind? And then we'll go together to the cherry room."

Cherry! She knew she liked the fruit! How could she forget?

"Katniss? Please?" Delly broke her from her cherry-induced reverie – and yes it included cherry pie – and Katniss found two faces waiting for her answer. What was the question, already? Ah yes, she had to stay and watch them practice.

"I have no experience in that kind of dance. I don't know if I can help you… I have no clue what the soccada are or whatever."

Delly chuckled.

"Volcada and sentadas. Don't worry. We just want to know if it's watchable, if the dance makes sense, you know? If the story we tell is believable."

What was it with dances being stories? They were a succession of steps, made to bring out the technicality and difficulties of some pieces. Okay, there was a story behind the ballet, but for her, it was mainly an excuse to have the dances created. Nothing more.

"I guess I can tell you if it looks okay, yes. The dance is long?" Katniss had every intention of keeping her opinion strictly on the technical aspect. Story, my ass.

"Something like three minutes, and then we're done here."

Three minutes and she'll have a guide to the rehearsal room where she and Finnick had their appointment. She was pretty sure she would lose much more time if she had to peruse the empty corridors by herself searching for it. She could do it.

"Okay then." Katniss moved a bit more inside the room, to fully take on the scene in front of her. Peeta removed his shirt and stood before her in his undershirt.

"Aren't you supposed to stay dressed?"

"That's how we will be dressed if this makes it to the show."

"It's not part of the show?"

"We keep adding and retiring numbers according to the dancers that are available. Some pieces can only be danced by particular people. So when they're off, or on holidays, or whatever, we have to fill in their numbers. Add to that that we want the public to come back, so the show can't always be the same…" Peeta finally faced Delly, who had been busy with the music and was now on the other side of the room, and nodded once.

The music started pouring through the speakers again, filling the room. A single accordion, seemingly dying his last notes, was crying its plea. A woman, Delly, wandered looking sad, until coming face to face with a man. He took her left hand in his right, and she started to move away from him, trying to pull when he was coming closer. They locked eyes, and their feet began the battle their tongues would have fought instead, trying to get the better of the other. Lingering hands, a foot caressing a leg, sharp turns and quick kicks, a drop of sweat. A body, balanced on its knees, forms clinging to each other, as the woman's movement made it clear she wanted out, until she finally succumbed to the eyes and arms of the man, in the last note .

The dance was over, he had seduced her.

They had told their story.

-

"You haven't said a word since we left the room. I'm worried. Was it that bad?"

They were walking through the maze of corridors, Katniss trying to memorize her way while Peeta easily guided her from left to right, and all she could think of was the display she had been presented with.

"How do you do this?"

"Well, I have a photographic memory, so it's quite easy for me to find my way around any place. Can be handy you know, in case I get lost in a maze."

What? She stopped in her tracks, wondering what the hell was that answer.

"Katniss?" Peeta turned back to her, smiling. "I guess you weren't talking about not getting lost in the corridors, then?"

"No." She looked around trying to find something to remember for the next time she would come by, a sign, or a drawing, whatever, but failed. "Where's the room?"

Peeta stepped towards her, and she realized for the first time how tall and broad he was. He wasn't anything like Finnick who oozed sexiness within a three-mile radius. But not Peeta. Of course, he was good looking with those blond curls and blue eyes – even if to be completely honest, blue wasn't the right color, and she couldn't remember if the blue stone was the sapphire or the lapis lazuli – but what emanated from Peeta was comfort. Not the promise of a wild night, but rather the luxury of a night at home, relaxing and warm. 

"You're okay? You seemed a bit... off?"

"I zoned out, sorry. Where's the room?"

"Second door on the right. And you weren't talking about the corridors, right?"

Katniss tightened her grip on the strap of her bag. She didn't want to answer his question, didn't want to have him explain with his words again how she was a failure at not understanding dancing.

She didn't get it, honestly. She had seen Peeta and Delly dancing and telling a story, but she didn't understand how they were doing it. How with simple moves – moves she could easily redo – they could tell a story, but she couldn't.

So she did what she was best at. She hurried to the door, she didn't want to be late you see...

The only problem was the room was completely empty. The lights were on, and a sports bag was discarded on the ground, near the quiet stereo, the only sound being the grinding of the door.

"Well, I'm sure Finnick will be here in a minute." Peeta's bag came to rest next to the bright red one on the floor. "You need to warm up?"

Katniss sighed internally, glad Peeta had dropped his previous question.

"Yes, thanks, so I'll get used to these damn heels."

"You need music?"

"Not necessary. Do you?"

"Not necessary either. But it's more fun, right? Any preference?"

Katniss shook her head no - as long as it wasn’t Ricky Martin she was fine with everything he would come up with.

"You mind if I rehearse while you warm up?"Peeta asked.

Katniss shook her head and started her routine. Stretch, flex. Again. Until music started blazing through the speakers, making her jump in surprise.

"Sorry!" Peeta apologized, lowering the volume with the remote control.

"Hey guys! You're already here?"

Finnick blasted through the door, a huge grin on his face. He walked directly to Peeta, taking him in a giant hug, before turning to Katniss with the same intention."You do not intend to hug me, right?" she asked.

"Why not? I just learned very good news, and I'm ready to hug the world!" Finnick’s smile was as wide as his mouth allowed.

"Well, hug the world but not me. I don't do hugging."

"Well, you're here to change a few things, aren’t cha?" Without further warning, Finnick opened his arms to take Katniss in his large embrace, leaving her without any possibility to move.

It wasn't the first time she was hugged, not by far. She could recall a time, long ago when it had been a common occurrence for her, to be cared for instead of caring for others. That was the time when she still had a family besides Prim. Where she wasn't the one on which everything depended. When all she had to care about was her tutu and pointes, or doing her homework in time for school instead of repeating her moves in her room. A time when friends would come to her house, when they were playing "what ifs...", a time when her parents were still alive.

And now, a few years later, and lots of hopes gone forever, she felt herself being hugged, and it was weird.

"We've got a lot to work on, Katniss. But you will have to start to open up if you want to succeed. I know it's hard, trust me, I know. But with Peeta's help, and for the time being, mine, you'll make it. We will give you everything we can to make you the greatest ballerina of our time," Finnick whispered softly in her ear. "Now buckle up, Sugar, you're in for a ride."

He moved away from Katniss, his smile widening as he approached the stereo, producing a flash drive from his back pocket.

"Put your heels and skirt on, let your hair down, we're going to salsa!" He high-fived Peeta as he made a few steps – presumably salsa as he’d hinted.

Mouth wide-open, Katniss stared at both men in front of her, who were grinning as Finnick plucked the drive in the stereo.

"I don't know the salsa...."

"That's the point, Sugar. You're here to learn things you don't know about."

"But I thought I was here to work on my expressions?"

"Then express something to the salsa. Follow our steps, it shouldn't be difficult for you, right? You're a fully trained dancer."

Yes. She would make it. She was, after all, on her way to being a ballerina, right?

 

-

She wouldn't make it until noon. Her body ached in places she wasn't used to. She was pretty sure that when she would pull off her shoes, the skin of her soles would come with it. Her back ached after being perched and dancing for so long on these damn heels.

Of course the moves weren't that difficult to make, she was used to way worse. But the quick tempo of the music, blaring through the speakers, the constant moves of the arms and legs were exhausting. She didn't want to think about her four-hour long rehearsal this afternoon with Thresh, because she was pretty sure she wouldn't make it through. She would collapse on the floor long before reaching the Opera.

"Come on, Sugar, from the start!" And Finnick, that damn-fucking bastard hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. Sure he was just wearing an undershirt, just like Peeta was, and they were both swaying at her sides, all the while chatting while she was in pain.

And the music. She wasn't used to so much noise. Not only was it high, blaring through the speakers, but sometimes, shouts and whistles were covering it. Panting, she went back to her starting position, in front of the huge mirror covering the wall, and got ready. She could see her reflection, her sweating face, hair disheveled, cheeks red from the effort, and her panting breath. And she thought she was in good physical condition.

"Okay, we'll take a small break before we get back to it." Finnick checked the large clock over the door. "Drink up, take five, I have to make a call." Katniss took her chance for five minutes of rest and hurried to the bench her things were sitting on. She desperately needed to rest her feet for a few minutes or she would crumble to the ground.

“Don’t sit right now, or you won’t be able to stand up.”

Katniss stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder at Peeta, who was grabbing a bottle of water from his bag. “You know about lactic acid, right?”

Yeah, she knew everything about it. From the cramps they gave to the unbearable pain the day after if you ever forgot to stretch after a workout. Or how it could wake her up in the middle of the night, the pain in her legs so raw it made her scream and cry.

And yes, she knew stopping moving right now would make it more painful in the morning, but she was exhausted. And Finnick was out, and well, he was her teacher, right?

“What’s the point, exactly? Finnick’s there to teach me how to feel, right? So if he’s not here…”

She let her sentence die, hoping it would buy her a bit more time, but knowing full well it wouldn’t be the case. She took her own bottle from her bag, and delighted in the taste of the iced-tea inside.

“Katniss?”

She closed her eyes, pretending she didn’t hear so it would buy her at least five more seconds.

“Katniss, I know you can hear me. Turn around.”

She sighed, her bottle still in hand, and faced Peeta.

He was closer to her than what she thought, his right arm outstretched towards her, his hand open.

“What?”

“Dance with me.”

“Why?”

“The good reason is to keep you warm. The right reason is to have fun.”

“I can’t salsa, Peeta.”

“Then we’ll dance to other music. Dance with me.”

She could find a hundred reasons not to. She didn’t want to sprain her ankles, or engage in dances she didn’t know. They should wait for Finnick. She was tired. Needed to go to the restroom.

“Please,” he added, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

So she caved in.

 

-

Dum, dududum, dududududum… Again and again. The sound of the drums was pulsating in her eardrums, a restless beating echoing again and again. This could have easily been a torture coming out of Greek mythology. Katniss exhaled, deeply stuffing her lungs with the air she would need in a moment.

Be the flute, she reminded herself, leading the whole orchestra. I am a flute, silver and thin, I need to become a flute, she repeated again and again.

And the music began, the light music of the instrument starting the whole movement. Katniss came to life, her face taut with concentration. She was trying to follow the sound of the flute, trying to match her movement to the music even when it was overcome by the rest of the orchestra.

“Okay, that was better.” Kristina, the ballet mistress in charge of the Bolero rehearsals, smiled at Katniss. “It was very good Katniss. Try to loosen your face a bit and feel the music a bit more, will you? But your moves were smoother, more linked together. Thresh, you were a bit off-beat in the middle, like you lost your line. Be careful next time, okay? You take five”

Katniss fell to the ground, exhausted. Almost four hours of salsa this morning, minus the five minute break during Finnick’s phone call, followed by this session. Not to mention she needed to stay late tonight, to rehearse for the casting of Manon that would happen the next week. Dance, dance, dance, and again, dancing.

“I hope I didn’t bother you, I was a bit off-beat at times,” Thresh’s deep voice came from above her. Katniss was lying on her back, completely sprawled on the hardwood floor, trying to catch her breath. Her partner was handing her her bottle of water.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t even notice. I was trying to be a flute.” She took her beverage, and gulped the precious liquid in seconds. God, this felt good.

“You were what? A flute?”

“Yeah, a flute, you know, leading the orchestra and all that.”

Katniss waited for the answer to come, but after a long thirty seconds, she opened her eyes to find Thresh had left her to forage through his bag on the other side of the room. He came back, a towel in hand, and settled on the floor beside her.

“I have honestly no clue as to what you mean by being a flute?”

She rose on her elbows, startled.

“You don’t know? The flute that leads the orchestra, because it’s the first instrument that plays, after the drums? The drums that give the tempo, and the flute that gives the music? You know about this, right?”

“Nope. No clue. But if that’s what works for you, that’s okay.”

“You have no clue? But it’s the story! And what do you mean what works for me?”

“If being the flute helps you get into the piece, then be the flute. I’m a river, starting from a small spring until it reaches the sea, with the river and salt water mixing. But, please, be a flute!”

“But you told me about rhythm and all…”

“I told you what somebody told me once, how he danced it. Not how you should dance it. But if the flute works…”

“Are we ready? To the start, and then we’ll go to the scene and add the rest of the dancers.”

Kristina’s crystalline voice broke their rest, and as Katniss rose to her feet, she felt lost. River, flute, what should she be? What the hell was that piece of music? There weren’t even words to put on this damn rhythm. What did this guy mean when he wrote the piece?

“Katniss? Are you there?”

Startled from her thoughts, Katniss realized that the music had already started and she’d missed the beginning, too lost in her questions.

“Sorry… I…”

“Let’s go, to the start. Martyna, please?”

The little brunette, who usually played the piano during the dance sessions, started the music on the stereo.

The now familiar rhythm of the drum echoed in the room, and Katniss felt the hands of panic grabbing her stomach, turning her insides all mushy. She thought so much of being the flute, and now this idea of water? What should she do?

Follow me. She heard the words Peeta told her this morning, just barely a whisper near her ear, as he had led her to dance.

The first measures of a rather slow melody had echoed in the cherry room. Something Katniss remembered hearing, but couldn’t quite place, the memory escaping her. A guitar, giving the rhythm, as Peeta placed her left hand on his shoulder, her right one in his, and he swiftly circled her waist with his arm. She startled, at the intimacy of both their bodies against one another. She wasn’t used to such proximity, to dancing so closely to someone else… the hands on her hips, she could deal with, but this…. This was unusual. As a woman’s voice started to sing softly, almost like a mother recalling a story from long ago, Katniss felt Peeta’s feet and body move. She realized intently she had absolutely no clue of what she was supposed to do.

“Peeta, I don’t know what to do! You should teach me first!”

“Shh… listen to the music, follow me. Try to enjoy the moment.”

“Enjoy? How –“

“Shh, Katniss… listen to her song. Close your eyes. I won’t let you fall.”

Peeta brought her so close, so close Katniss’s head was almost resting on his shoulder, and then he started moving slowly, in sync with the music, swaying them to the rhythm. She shouldn’t be surprised, really, at how he could manage to balance his body, she had seen him dance before. There was a grace – for lack of a better word – surrounding him, and the other dancers, when they moved on the dance floor. Everything seemed easy, dictated by the music, and she knew by experience that such easiness came with long hours of rehearsals and work, and maybe one of the hardest things to achieve.

“I don’t understand what she is saying,.” she whispered into his ear, not wanting to break the spell the music seemed to have put her under. She was in the middle of a room, dancing with a man she barely knew, to a rhythm unknown to her, and she should feel uncomfortable. It was so out of her comfort zone.

But somehow, the song was breaking through her walls, the soothing voice of this singer could very easily pierce her carefully built armor.

“We don’t need to understand the words to understand the song… close your eyes and relax.”

And she decided, on the spur of the moment, to do as Peeta asked for. To just close her eyes and not care about her steps, or where she would put her foot next, whether her arms were where they should be, or her body limp enough to follow his. She surrendered to the music and the voice, and closed her eyes.

 

She danced. Really danced. Just like when she was still a little girl who enjoyed spinning again and again, making her father laugh, in their family garden. Her mom was there, nursing her toddler sister, and her father, he looked at her with this sparkle in his eyes. When she had finished, he would take her in his arms, and they would spin, and she would laugh.

She danced. Really danced. Letting herself go to the music, letting herself be flooded by the notes, and the words, letting herself feel the pain of the song. Feeling the sadness of the song. Feeling.

 

The song died with a few notes from the guitar, and she stayed, speechless, cradled in the arms of the man holding her, not wanting to lift her head, too afraid a single move would make her tears fall.

A feather of a whisper came caressing her ear. “It’s a sad song, about people being separated, not sure they would one day meet again. She poured her soul in her songs, as if every time, she let us see a part of herself, and it’s a gift, really. You’ve felt it, this sadness.”

“Katniss! Are you with us?” She felt a hand on her arm, and looked down to find the brown fingers of Thresh laying cautiously there.

“Yeah, just you know, zoned out.” She shook her head, trying to clear it from the remnants of her memory, and went back to her starting spot on the scene, ready to start again.

A flute, she remembered. I have to be a flute.


	8. Step 8: Saudade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A failed audition, a phone call, memories .... 
> 
> Maybe the start of something new for Katniss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start reading, I want to thank very much four awesome persons : @titaniasfics, @dandelion-sunset for their beta skills - amazings beta skills I should add, and @xerxia31 for her help in the narrative of the first part of the chapter.
> 
> And I want to tell @akai-echo her aesthetics made me really emotionnal ... it’s like she was in my head, taking the images that had formed there to put them on the screen of my computer with such talent and grace. She’s a ballerina in her way :)
> 
> Thank you Ladies, for helping me with my little story. Love you all so so much :)
> 
> Without further ado, to the reading.
> 
> Do not hesitate to leave a small comment or a message - I’d love to know what you think of this story :)

“Care to explain what that happened in there, Everdeen?”

Haymitch’s voice echoed in the old corridor, startling the dancers lined against the wall or practicing their moves. But it had no impact on her as she ran in pointes and tutu, heading towards the far end of the hallway.

Katniss had just left the Oval Room, left the audition for Manon. The one she had spent hours rehearsing for these last days, on top of the usual hours spent at the Arena. The one that went terribly.

She heard him grumble, “Why am I even surprised,” just before she turned the corner, leaving him behind.

She snaked through the corridors, slamming doors along the way, her path seemingly random to those who saw her fly by. But she knew where she was heading. To the very heart of the Opera, the basement. The one place she knew she would be completely alone.

The large space was dark, with only the red of the emergency signs and the flashing of the timer to guide her. It was mostly empty, except for pipes of all sizes running along the walls. A mechanical hum filled the darkness, giving the space a surreal feeling. She tucked herself behind a warm pipe, unlaced her pointes, and dropped her face into her hands.

For a former dancer, he walked like an elephant. She could hear him shuffling and muttering under his breath about horror movies long before the light snapped on, the ticking of the timer adding to the ambient noise. With a groan, he lowered himself to sit beside her.

“What happened?” he asked, softly.

He sat just close enough to be a comfort, but not too close to smother her, and certainly not to touch her. Katniss wasn’t a touchy person.

“I failed.” Katniss snorted without raising her head. She didn’t want anyone seeing her tears.

“How can you tell?”

“That woman, the one who’s from outside, she yawned.” Katniss didn’t even try to look at him.

“Maybe she was tired, or jetlagged?”

“Yeah, or maybe I sucked.”

“You can’t tell,” Haymitch said.

She lifted her head to look straight at her coach, her mentor. “Yes I can. I felt it. It wasn’t right.”

“What wasn’t right? The steps?”

“No. I wasn’t Manon.” There. It was out in the open.

His mouth twitched, as if he was trying not to smirk. “Anyone could have told you that. Finnick told me that, and he isn’t even a ballet dancer. Of course you’re not Manon. You wouldn’t do what she did, even for love. You would have dragged your man out of this mess and never let him walk that path. Of course it wasn’t going to work.”

“ I tried!” she protested. “But it’s like in the Bolero! Peeta told me to be a flute, but how can I be a flute? I mean, I’m not made of silver, or anything…”

“Peeta told you to be a flute? Really? Told you to be?” Haymitch insisted.

“Well, he told me this story about the flute leading the orchestra and…”

“And you thought that if you could be the flute, it would work?”

“Well, yeah… but then Thresh told me he was thinking of a river when he listened to the music. So I got all mixed up! What should I be?” Katniss could feel a mix of despair and sadness in her voice.

“You, Sweetheart. You should be you, and not try to be anyone else.”

“Yeah, because I’m so good when I’m me.”

“Not that you. The other one. The one you’re trying to hide. The one you need to let out in the open if you want to succeed.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“Sure. And I’m Rudolf Noureev. Why do you think I sent you to Finnick?”

“To ‘open-up’.”

“Not at all. To let you loose. To make you dance until the real you shows up. To make you dance until you finally let loose and enjoy yourself.”

“And I need these two dancers to do that?”

“Wow. Katniss, have you bothered checking Finnick online?” She looked at him and shook her head. “No? That’s what I thought.”

He hoisted himself up, leaning heavily against the wall behind him. Katniss thought it was to avoid putting too much weight on his bad knee. Then he started walking towards the light at the end of the room.

“Remember two things, Katniss,” he called without turning back to face her. “If you want to shine, you have to let yourself go. And more importantly; failure. It’s not falling down. It’s refusing to get back up. Choice is yours, Sweetheart.”

Haymitch headed back towards the Opera, but stopped a few steps in.

“You know I’ve seen a lot of young dancers around here. Some succeeded, some failed. I can still remember some of them – some were dancers when I was one myself, others were my students.” Haymitch paused, his back still to Katniss, before continuing, with a softer voice.

“And then there were the ones I can’t forget, you know? A gentle boy, a hard-ass teenager, and a scowling brunette. They all had that tiny something I knew I could use to bring the best out of them and lead them into the spotlight.”

He sighed, before turning to face her.

“I know Katniss Everdeen could be tomorrow’s rising star in ballet. If only she dares to let her walls down, if only she allows herself to open up… she could take the stage and set it on fire. She would be radiant. But no, she has to hide behind God-only-knows-what, and I had hoped Finnick – but mostly Peeta – would help her. I have seen progress, and Kristina too, she’s even happy about the last rehearsal of the Bolero, but there is still so much to do.”

Haymitch took a deep breath. It was the most Katniss had heard him talk in forever. “And right now I’m afraid that this failure at Manon will take you three steps back, after one tiny, little baby step forward.”

He turned, heading to the door, and this time, he didn’t stop.

The lights went off.

-

At first, the living room of the apartment on 122B Mockingjay Street seemed clean and neat. What was odd was the portative barre near the windows that took almost all the space of the living room, leaving the couch and the coffee table stuck on the other side, near the kitchen.

A closer look would reveal, though, the sports bag laying on the ground, just in front of the console on which keys laid, abandoned. A jacket was hanging on the back of a chair, and shoes were discarded on the carpet. A trail of clothes made a path towards the corridor, where a door was slightly ajar, revealing the dark room on the other side.

A “ping” on the laptop screen remained unanswered. Brought to life by the unending sounds of Skype chiming in, the small icon of a young blond woman appeared. And appeared, and appeared again.

A light noise of bells rang from the dark room, and the flash of the screen became the only source of light, never succeeding in waking up the occupants of the bed. The cat lifted his head slightly at the obvious disturbance the light caused, waking him up way too early after only thirteen hours of well-deserved sleep. The woman remained asleep, not moving a single muscle, too enclosed in the cocoon of her quilt.

But the caller on the other side of the screen was persistent.

A few minutes later, the unmistakable voice of Idina Menzel started to echo through the room, efficiently waking its owner up. Tousled hair, eyes full of sleep, cheeks wrinkled by the pillow, that’s what Katniss looked like as she took her phone in hand, cursing herself for the hundredth time for not changing her ringtone.

“Prim! I hate this ringtone!”

“You can change it, Katniss. And good morning to you!”

“Yeah, good whatever to you. What time is it?”

“Depends? In Paris or in Panem?”

“Paris?”

“5:30 pm.”

“So it means it’s…” turning on the bed, Katniss started looking for her alarm on the nightstand.

“11:30 am for you. You’re looking for your clock?”

“Hum, no?”

“Liar!” Prim giggled on the other end of the line – or the world, or whatever.

“So, what’s up? Why did you call me? It’s going to cost you a fortune! I told you to Skype me instead!”

“I tried, big sis.”

“Sure you did. Skype me, it’ll be easier.”

Katniss hung up the phone, taking in her bedroom. Sure enough, the clock showed a lovely 11:27 in red numbers, sure enough the curtains let a ray of bright light pass through them, and sure enough her body told her in clear signs that she’d overslept. She climbed out of bed and stretched her arms over her head, bending slightly forward.

She heard the now familiar sound of Skype calling her to the living room, and debated with herself whether to take the call immediately or resolve some pressing bathroom matters first.

Deciding she would be more at ease talking with Prim with an empty bladder, she hurried to take care of Mother Nature first, before heading back to the living room. The Skype icon showed seven missed calls, all from her sister.

Katniss took the laptop and carried it to the sofa, where she settled, and finally answered the last ping.

Her sister came into view, the image moving as she settled on her bed, moving away heavy books and pages full of her precise handwriting.

“Took you long enough!”

“ I had to pee, if you want to know everything.”

“TMI Katniss! TMI!”

“ You asked.”

“I didn’t. Just remarked it took you a long time to come over, and if I remember correctly, your room isn’t that far enough from the couch.”

“Oh, you still remember that after all this time?” Katniss couldn’t prevent the words from falling out of her mouth. Prim had been gone for a year and a half now, studying in Paris. She had earned a scholarship for a six month period in Europe, and took full advantage of it, leaving their little Ohio town and the United States in a rush.

And now, eighteen months later, she was still in France, studying medicine at a French university, working as an English teacher for some schools to earn money, and Katniss had yet to hear about her coming back.

“Katniss… “ pain was clearly etched on the little blonde’s face.

“I’m sorry, Prim. But… it’s hard, you know? You being over there, and well, we only saw each other twice during the last year and a half…. I miss you, that’s all.”

Prim frowned on the screen

“I know, I miss you too – but this is an opportunity I can’t miss. I might have a chance at this scholarship, and you know what it means? Working with Professor Aurelius would be really so great! It’s important for me….”

“Prim – I understand, I really do. But I miss you. And as long as you’re abroad, I have to take care of that stupid cat of yours.”

“Buttercup isn’t stupid! He’s quite bright for a cat, actually!”

“Well, he’s intelligent enough to find his kibble bowl and litter, I guess. But that’s about everything.”

Prim rolled her eyes, not believing for one second that her sister didn’t take care of her cat.

“Prim?”

“Yeah?”

“This scholarship thing? How long will it take?”

“Kat….” Prim sighed, not wanting this conversation again.

“How long? Prim? I need to know!”

“It’s two years after this one.”

“Two years? And then will it be okay for you to come back?”

“I don’t know, really.” Prim closed her eyes. “I still have nightmares of finding her, Kat. Not every night like it used to be, but often enough not to keep a boyfriend for a long time.”

Primrose had been the one to find their mother lifeless corpse, eyes open, an empty box of pills near her dead body a mere days before her high school graduation. Alice Everdeen had never been able to overcome the death of her husband in a car accident, two years earlier..

It took Katniss two hours and twenty-three minutes after her sister’s phone call to arrive to their childhood home, time during which Prim had remained prostrate against the wall of their parents’ bedroom. It took her years before she slept one night without a nightmare..

Somehow, Katniss could understand Prim’s decision to leave the house, the county, even the country behind her and start anew, but God, did it hurt. It hurt to be the only one left behind, to be all alone with no family to call. Of course, she had friends, but it would never be the same.

She didn’t want to admit it to Peeta last Thursday, but the song they danced talked to her, directly. Even though she couldn’t understand the words, she could feel the despair of the woman, waiting for someone she knew wouldn’t come back. She could understand that feeling, this intense desire for something she once had, but had lost.

“Katniss? You there?”

“Sorry, I zoned out. I’m low on caffeine. But did you mention a boyfriend?”

“You know what they say, Katniss… While in Paris…. Fais comme les français.”

“And this means?”

“I met a couple of guys, but nothing serious, really. But speaking of boys, what about Finnick?”

“He’s still cocky as hell. But I don’t dance a lot with him anymore, I’m more often with Peeta.”

“Peeta? The blond one?”

“Blond wavy hair, stocky, broad shoulders. And don’t get me started on his eyes. Too blue to be real. I’m sure he’s wearing contacts.”

“Did you ask him?”

“Ask him what?”

“If he wears contacts?”

“Why would I?”

“To show you’re interested in him.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are.”

“I’m not.”

“If you say so. So what are you doing with him?”

“Dancing, obviously. Or more accurately, exhausting myself. They keep making me do these strange moves. But now I know the salsa and the samba. That’s something at least.”

“Salsa? Show me!”

“Nope. Not going to. I’m sore, and I have to head to the studio this afternoon for the Bolero.”

“Oh, right.” Prim looked disappointed, but cheered up quickly enough. “How’s it going with Thresh?”

“Fine. I’m the problem.”

“Come on, Kat, you’re the best dancer I’ve ever known!”

“Yeah? But you’re biased. And apparently, I lack feelings.”

“No, you don’t!! I can’t let you think that! You’re the most caring pers–”

“Prim! Stop!”

“Katniss Marie Everdeen, you’re going to listen to me. And shut the fuck up. You are the most caring person I know. You have so much love, it radiates out of you. You just don’t allow yourself to open up.”

Katniss didn’t know what started her anger. Whether it were the comforting words her sister just told her, or the fact that she might be right – she cared way too much for her sister – or the fact that she needed to “open up”. But she burst anyway.

“Why the hell do people go on telling me I should open up? What does it even mean? That I should open my ribcage and show them my heart so they can be sure it beats? I don’t even understand what they want me to do! I’ve been spending my life dancing throughout everything – everything Prim! – so one day I could maybe have my name on a poster! But no, I haven’t done enough, because I can’t bloody open up! I just don’t know how to do it! Nobody told me how to do it!”

She felt the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Kat… that was anger, right?”

“I guess… Look, I’m sor-“

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I know. And you know how to open up. You just did. You showed me you were pissed at what life threw your way.”

“Yeah, but not at you...”

“I know. I have a question?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you take any pleasure when you dance?”

“Prim…” she sighed. She couldn’t believe she would have to explain to her sister – again – how difficult it was to be a ballerina. “Ballet is not about pleasure. It’s about perfection. It’s about the attention given to details.”

“No, Katniss. If you don’t feel anything it’s not worth doing. I remember when you were about to go to your dance lessons. You were giddy, and so happy. Now, I feel like it’s just work. And it doesn’t feel right.”

The memory of a little girl, with silver eyes and a bun on her head, swirling around in her tutu. Or the same girl, a few years later, at her first ballet show, being the sugar fairy in The Nutcracker. This girl had joy in her eyes, was clearly enjoying herself. She wondered what happened to her, where did she go…. I locked her up when Pa died… And I forgot about her when Ma passed away…. And I focused on Prim… because that’s what I had to do.

It was like an epiphany, suddenly. She had to find the little girl in the pink tutu. She had to find the key to the lock she carefully placed on her feelings. She had to find the will and joy to dance again.

She knew what she had to do. She just needed to figure out how to do it.


	9. Step 9: Let's get this party started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the work has paid off for Katniss.
> 
> But she doesn't expect what she's greeted with at the Arena. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My huge thanks go to the three awesome persons that hold my hand every step of the way - @dandelion-sunset , @titaniasfics for their beta magic (trust me, they DO magic) and @akai-echo who reads my mind for the aesthetics …  
> this story would be nothing without them :)  
> Please do not hesitate to leave a small message, should you like the story :)

“Will you stop, Sweetheart?” the breathless voice that came from behind startled her. Katniss hadn’t heard anyone coming near, too focused on her steps and the music pouring out of the speakers. The closer she arrived to the date of the show, the more she panicked.

The steps, she would manage. The feeling and emotion behind them… she wasn’t so sure. She still hadn’t found what Peeta and Finnick called “her key”. After weeks of moving her hips to crazy music, she finally started enjoying herself last Thursday, focusing a bit more on her partner and the music rather than her steps. And oddly enough, she was almost looking for her next session with pleasure.

“Haymitch? What happened? You ran?” In all her years at the National, she never ever saw Haymitch running. And she wasn’t sure anyone else had either. It was common knowledge that the old man was always late, and never in a hurry. Like something written in marbles, or in his contract, maybe.

“You’ve seen the list?”

The list? Katniss wondered which list he was talking about. Oh. The list. The roles for The Firebird were to be announced today.

“Hum, no, I suppose I’ll be one of the princesses, if I get anything.”

She returned to focusing on her feet, trying to keep the tempo of the bolero in her head. Foot, foot, arm, hand.

“How did the audition go?” Haymitch said.

“I danced.”

"You know you're hilarious, right?"

Katniss stopped her movement. Haymitch had decided he wanted to talk, and she would not be able to concentrate as long as he stalked her for words. Better deal with it now, acknowledge she would be princess of Whatever in the Firebird, and she could go back to this damn music with these damn steps faster.

"Yeah, it's a gift. So? What did you want to tell me? I'm the princess of Sublime Beauty?"

"No."

"So, I'm one of the others. No big deal. Can I go back to this? I need to improve being a flute, or a river, or anything."

"You're not a princess."

Katniss froze in place. Not a princess? She didn't even succeed in scoring one of the roles she was looking for?

Putting on a brave face, she took her bottom lip between her teeth (mostly so Haymitch wouldn't see it shaking) and grabbed the remote of the Hi-fi that was on the floor next to her. She needed to concentrate on something else before breaking down.

"Well, less work for me. I'll be in the shadows, as usual."

"No you won't."

She looked at Haymitch, scowling. She had never been good at playing hide and seek, and did not have time to waste with this. But mostly she wanted him out of the room so she could go away and hide her sadness from everybody here. She failed, again. Despite all of her work, all the extra training sessions with Finnick and Peeta, she didn't get the part.

She was so sure of herself when she had entered the room. The technique wasn't a problem – it never had been. She had worked on her emotions, trying her best to convey the joy of the princesses in their dance, trying to draw the prince with them. She had done exactly what Peeta told her before she left – thinking she was attracting the man she wanted, trying to seduce him.

And yet, again, she had failed.

"I'm not even on scene?" If she wasn't in the shadows, then where could she be?

"You're so clueless sometimes, you know. It should be endearing, but it kind of loses its charm after the hundredth time."

"Make yourself clear, Haymitch! Am I or am I not on scene in this ballet?"

"You are."

"Okay, you got me. I'm going to see the list now! Where is it?"

"Effie sent it by email."

"Email? It's not pinned on the board anymore? Wow, the twenty-first century finally caught up with us?" she ironized, as she knew Effie was fond of everything social-media related. Katniss even had a Facebook invitation from the secretary waiting for her approval.

It had been one of the flaws of the previous team – showing up to everybody in the ballet that Glimmer and Cato had (again) the first roles, while their minions – named Gloss and Cashmere – were the other big roles. And the list was displayed in full big bold red letters on the board near the entrance, so that everybody passing by would see it. But now that Seneca Crane was gone, such displays weren't used anymore. Everybody received a small mail from Effie, with their role – or lack of.

Gathering her courage, Katniss walked towards the back of the room, to the bench her bag was lying on. She noticed Haymitch's smirk was back on his mouth full force as she passed in front of him.

But she couldn't help the shaking of her hand as she perused through her sports bag, searching for the phone she knew was there, somewhere.

Finally locating something hard and familiar, Katniss took a deep breath while unlocking her iPhone carefully and clicking on the "mail" icon. After a few seconds, several new messages appeared. She cleared her inbox of the usual spam and finally hit Effie's mail. She looked up to see Haymitch watching her, that damn smirk still on his lips, nodding in encouragement. Grabbing one last breath, she started reading-

“Haymitch…” she lifted her head from the small screen, looking at her mentor. “This is true?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Haymitch nodded.

She quickly changed her shoes and did what she usually did.

She ran.

Because that's what she did best. Running. She always was a good runner, even won some races in high school competitions.

So, after reading her mail, she changed her shoes, and ran from the National. Ran to catch a bus, never caring the slightest about the raindrops that were falling, or her lack of coat. Nearly ran in the bus, to rush it through the streets. She ran in the corridors, looking for a door she knew so well now, not pausing even once to greet the people she recognized.

Breathless, she stopped in front of the door of the Cherry room, leaning against the wall to catch her breath before stepping inside. She undid her sport sweater, only then realizing how drenched she was now. And how her phone was buzzing in her hand, with Haymitch's name appearing on the screen.

She wasn't ready to talk to him right now. Too much had happened too quickly, and she needed to process the news before calling her teacher back.

Taking another deep breath, she squeezed as much water out of her hair as she could, adding to the puddle of rain that had already formed at her feet. She put her phone in the pocket of her worn out – and wet – sweatpants, and turned the knob of the door.

Tango music poured out of the stereo. But she stopped caring about the music when she took in the couple that was dancing in front of her.

She had spent some time in the Arena now, and was quite familiar with all the dancers, having seen them more than once. But of all the pairings she could have thought, this one never crossed her mind.

Dancing together – and now that she had seen it, she knew it was the tango – were Finnick and Peeta. Shirtless.

Katniss had to suddenly remember how to breathe. She knew that both the men in front of her had great bodies – she was a dancer herself and worked with numerous men during her career. But it was something entirely different to see them in a dance almost trying to seduce each other. Not a pass of arms or movement of legs was feminine. Everything was so masculine, it breathed testosterone. The grip on their hands and arms was firm, secured, and there was a noticeable tension passing between their eyes. Blue clashed with green, holding them up without blinking.

Katniss realized then that it was far from being a seduction dance. It was a competition. A contest , a demonstration? It was a pure show of strength, hidden between moves, turns and passes. She could see the tense sinews on Peeta's arms over the well-defined muscles, and eagerly looked at the amount of chest and abs displayed by the blond man.

God, this is a sight, she thought, taking in the two men. They were both wearing their usual faded jeans, but the lack of shirts gave Katniss a completely different view of them. Finnick was built like a swimmer, with strong shoulders and neck, and she noticed for the first time that he was a bit taller than Peeta. The latter was stockier, with a broad chest. But what caught Katniss's eyes was the fine blond hair covering him, whereas Finnick was bare as a newborn.

They twisted and turned, not paying any attention to Katniss standing in the doorway as they alternated the complex moves, until suddenly on a higher pitch of the music, Finnick was thrown in the air, in a complex jump that made him lay all his weight on Peeta's arms. And then, as if nothing had happened, they started again their battle of feet, fighting for a dominance they would not get.

It was truly mesmerizing, seeing two men dancing together to a rhythm that was made for love. But this had nothing to do with emotions – Katniss could very well picture them fighting for the attention of a lady, who would pick the one she thought was the best dancer.

To the rhythm of the music, some accordion thingy she was completely unable to identify, the two men moved their right leg backwards, lowering themselves as their limbs were drawing semi-circles, until the sound died in the speakers.

After another few seconds, they loosened their grip on each other and rose up to their full height, high-fiving each other, clearly happy with their work. That's when Katniss noticed the rivulets of sweat on their backs. She was following a very specific one, trailing down one of Peeta's pecs when she heard her name.

"Katniss?" the soft baritone voice was clearly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Kitty Kat! Missing us, already? It hasn't been that long…." Finnick's innuendo was enough for Katniss to feel her cheeks blushing – or was it the sight of both men without their shirts on? Surely the former.

"I…." She should have seen it coming. Finnick was now completely facing her, walking in her direction, on full display with all his well-defined muscles. She could swear his jeans were lower on his hips now, to show the (impressive) V of his as. But for all the beauty he radiated, she couldn't take him as seriously as he wanted her to. There was simply something too much she couldn't explain, too much of a show he was doing for every female he encountered.

Katniss couldn't help but focus on the other man, all blond-tousled hair, rendered a shade darker by the sweat, and whose eyes shot straight at her when she didn't expect it. As soon as he caught her looking back, Peeta's eyes dropped to the other side of the room where his Henley lay, and as he turned to go fetch it, Katniss noticed a small drawing on the inside of his left wrist.

"Have we rendered our wildcat completely speechless?" Finnick's voice cut her out of her reverie.

"You wish. What was that?" she asked, not quite sure herself whether she was talking of the dance she just saw or the tattoo on Peeta’s wrist.

"That was yours truly and Peet rehearsing for a new number, set for the end of the month if everything goes well."

"Finn, we both know we won't perform it until you're back! I should rehearse with Delly or Johanna instead of you."

"I'm not putting the cart before the horses, Bread Boy!"

"Bread Boy?" Katniss wondered what on earth Peeta had done to get that nickname.

"He thinks it's funny because my parents own a bakery. Hence the Bread Boy. We're lucky he didn't try for stand up with that kind of humor," Peeta said, shaking his head.

A knock on the door, followed by a blond girl coming in the doorway, kept Finnick from answering straight on, but did not prevent Peeta from receiving a killer glance. Men, Katniss thought, almost smiling. Almost.

"Finnick? Sorry to disturb, but you have a call. Bethany."

Katniss expected a comment from Finnick and was surprised when none came, in its place was a long glance between the two men, followed by a nod from Peeta.

"I'll be right there. Thanks Amy."

Amy closed the door slowly, as if she didn't want to disturb anymore. As soon as it was shut, Finnick’s composure changed completely. Gone was the confidence, the cockiness Katniss was used to. Gone was the perfect face, now replaced by a scowl Katniss could swear she had already seen on her own face. That is until something white covered his hair and forehead.

"You should wear this before going to Amy's. We wouldn't want the girls swooning behind you, Lover Boy."

Someone giggled and it took Katniss a good two seconds to realize she was the one doing it. She actually giggled!

"You call him Lover Boy?" she asked Peeta, not believing what she just heard. But at the same time, it was so… Finnick!

Peeta winked as he started to answer.

"No, that's what he calls himself. Can you believe that?"

She could.

"Well, Bread Boy, I'd better go and see what Beth wants. I might have landed that GQ cover finally."

"In your dreams, Odair. Good luck." Peeta glanced at his friend, and Katniss could only guess whatever conversation they were holding together. She thought she knew what it was about, with the info she had on the TV show Finnick was set to participate in.

Taking a deep breath in, Finnick finally put his white v-neck on, and walked towards the door, cocking a last glance at the two other people in the room.

"Now you two, behave. Don't do anything I wouldn't!"

Peeta chuckled as he shook his head, taking his Henley from the ground before putting it on, allowing Katniss to take a look at his broad back. The least she could say was that he definitely had a sculpted physique. And as little as Finnick's half-naked form affected her, she couldn't say it was the same for Peeta. Her eyes seemed to roam over his shoulders of their own accord, taking in the sharp lines of his muscles, until the white cotton recovered them one after the other.

Until all she could stare at was the firm cup of his backside.

She quickly averted her eyes, not wanting to linger there, ignoring the shiver running down her spine, and trying to remember why she came to the Arena in the first place.

"You're shivering!"

Katniss felt the warmth surrounding her, the smell of vanilla flooding her as the comfort of whatever was draped on her shoulder slowly entered her still soaking clothes.

"What are you doing here, Katniss? You're drenched! What happened?"

Oh??? Yes, she was completely soaking wet from the rain outside. Somehow, she completely forgot about her state of dress when she saw the two men dancing with one another.

"Oh… I wanted to share something with you…"

"And what would that be? Something bad happened?"

"No… Yes? Maybe?"

Peeta chuckled as his arm came to her elbow, touching her reassuringly.

"Tell me?"

Taking a deep breath, Katniss closed her eyes as she inhaled yet again the scent of vanilla coming from his… his what? She quickly looked, noticing she was wrapped in a sweatshirt – an orange one, nonetheless – on which something was written, but she couldn't see what.

"I've been cast as the Firebird, in you know, The Firebird."

"Stravinski's? The Petitpas choreography?"

Katniss nodded sheepishly, letting her eyes look at the ground, not knowing how Peeta would react to the news.

She didn't see him approaching, extending his arms to grab her in a warm embrace, she didn't expected being lifted off of the ground as if she weighed nothing – because she knew precisely how she weighed and it was far from nothing –and didn't know how to react when she felt his lips on her right temple, giving a feather light kiss.

"Katniss! This is awesome!! So deserved with all the work you’ve been put through!"

She was almost ready this time when he hugged her again, nearly crushing her bones, as if…. As if he was saying goodbye for the last time?

"Well, it's thanks to you and Finnick- you must have done something right…"

"Yeah, mostly Finn, then. He's the one who worked with you the most." A pang of sadness fell suddenly on Katniss. She never thought this would mean the end of her time dancing with them. Somehow, along the sweat, cursing, and hard work both men had put her through, she had started getting glimpses of the young girl that once slept in her tutu, that couldn't keep her smile off of her face when she heard the word "dance". Somewhere along the way she had started finding herself again.

"WorkED? You mean? You don’t want me to come anymore?"

"No, we have no problems with you coming here… I mean, it's great to have you… it's always a perk to have someone from the outside, you know… someone that is not in this kind of dance… to have, you know, perspective?" It was as if Peeta Mellark, the most talkative man she had the pleasure of meeting, was suddenly at a loss for words.

"You mean, you're okay if I still come to work with you?" She quickly added, "both of you?"

"I can't speak for Finn, but yeah… you can come whenever you want. You will, right?"

That was a very good question. She was so sure a few weeks ago she would leave at the first occasion, having fulfilled whatever training Haymitch had put her through. But now she was considering going on with her new routine, coming to the Arena despite the train ride through half the town to come dance with Peeta and Finnick.

"Hum, I…."

"I'm in! Peet! I'm in!"

Finnick had stormed in, banging the door open, without caring who was in the room.

But now he might have a shot at this GQ cover, right?


	10. Step 10: Peeta's Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are we ready to salsa ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My huge thanks go to four persons - @dandelion-sunset, @titaniasfics and @xerxia31 for taking on the task of betaing my (huge) pile of mistakes grammarwise, and to @akai-echo for the awesome banner and aesthetics (go figure, she doesn't believe it's THAT good … go tell her if you agree with me).
> 
> So, are you ready to dance ? if so, go read :) And please, PLEASE, don't forget to review if you liked it :)

She honestly didn’t know what she was doing here, in a crowd of people dancing, cheering and drinking, where everybody seemed to know everybody. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to come celebrate instead of going to the studio to rehearse again. But Peeta said it was for both Finnick’s enrollment in the upcoming season of Dancing with the Stars, and her lead role as the Firebird. Now she had two main events to look forward to dancing in, and couldn’t waste time doing nothing constructive.

But somehow, Peeta’s words – and Finnick’s enthusiasm at her having the role – had persuaded her to attend this party together with the dancers. They wouldn’t be dancing tonight – no shows on Mondays – and were all ready to spend an evening moving their asses to the music. As if they didn’t do it enough on their own.

So here she was. Katniss Everdeen, Notable Dancer at the National, in the middle of a salsa club – Guanabara – with a flock of people she didn’t know.

Well, she actually knew a few of them, but they were currently on the dance floor, dancing to the rhythm of salsa music. Delly and Peeta, not caring whether they were displaying their best moves on the floor, and Finnick with the gentle Annie from the coffee shop, who turned out to be his wife. Finnick, aka professional heartbreaker, was completely doting on his sweet woman. She never liked being the third wheel. Even given the circumstances, she was much more of a fifth wheel, all things considered.

And her mood wasn’t really into partying tonight, there was too much at stake starting tomorrow.

Somehow, when Finnick had explained his travel plans to L.A. in the coming months, how much work he would have to put into the choreography before starting to work with whichever star would be his partner, Katniss realized that she was there, in the middle of the room, still completely soaked, without her sports bag or anything.

She had then excused herself, but was stopped from leaving the room by Peeta sharing the news of her success with his friend.

Which led to another round of hugs – because it was apparently hug day – and the shouts of Finnick screaming “Party!” throughout the corridors of the Arena.

Which led to Katniss being asked to come along to celebrate her achievement too. And bid farewell to her teacher… friend? She didn’t know how to label the relationship she had with Finnick – nor with Peeta.

She had first refused to be dragged along with the whole gang of dancers, not wanting to be the little duck in a swan lake . But Finnick was insistent; this was perhaps going to be the last time they saw each other “until you’re drooling when you see me on tv, of course,” and it took a lot of convincing on his part – and maybe a “please” from Peeta - for her to confirm she would come.

Finnick insisted on taking her back to the National so she could grab her things, before dropping her in front of her building, with a smirk and a reminder to be ready at 8 pm, dress and all.

Which gave Katniss roughly three hours to get ready to go… she didn’t know where, nor how she should dress, or what on earth was she thinking when she agreed to go?

Desperate times calling for desperate measures, she had called Madge for help.

“Madge, thank God!”

“Kat? What’s happening?”

“I need your help, it’s a big mess!”

“What’s happening? Is it Prim? Is it… Gale?”

“What? No? I need you to help me choose something to wear. Like a dress?!”

Katniss was quite sure she would have been able to hear Madge’s sigh directly from the National if her windows had been open.

“You frightened me, you know? And what do you need to get dressed up for?”

“It’s… I have to…"Katniss stopped talking as she heard her friend obviously talking to someone else on the other side of the line.

"It’s Katniss, no everything’s fine, Cinna, don’t worry! – Katniss, sorry. Cinna was worried something happened. So, what’s going on?”

“Madge, I’m so sorry I frightened you… it’s really stupid, don’t worry…”

“Kat. What do you need to dress up for?”

Katniss didn’t think her cheeks could be more flushed, embarrassed as she was at panicking her friend.

“I’m kind of going to… a party?”

“A party? Who are you and where is Katniss Everdeen?”

“You’re hilarious.”

“A real party? With grown-ups? Alcohol?”

“Apparently. I have to go to that club, The Guatemala or something, tonight with the guys from the Arena. And the girls.”

“You mean the Guanabara?”

“Hum… Maybe? I don’t know Madge, it’s a Cuban-Brazilian-dancing-whatever place, and I need to dress for that. And I need your help! I don’t know what I should wear!”

“I’ll be at your place in forty-five minutes, okay. With a dress. But you’ve got to tell me everything!”

“I already told you everything! There’s nothing more!”

“Yeah, of course. As long as you tell me everything that’s happening with Finnick…”

Finnick?! Madge thought she had a thing for … Finnick Odair? Katniss would laugh if she wasn’t so desperate.

“The only thing happening with Finnick, or rather what used to be happening with Finnick, was the dancing. He’s married, you know?”

“And the other one? The yummy blonde?”

“Madge! You’re with Derek!”

“Well, that doesn’t mean I can’t look at what else exists! Peeta? You know? He’s all kind of hot!”

“Madge… They help me, it’s not like that! And don’t you have a dress to pick out?”

“I’ll see you in 45, Kat!”

“Can’t wait…”

“Bye.”

Katniss tossed her phone on the quilt next to her, trying to decide what to do next. Still debating whether she would go or not – it was quite tempting to text Finnick she had an emergency. Instead,she put music on before heading to the shower. Soon the sounds of Florence + the Machine were pouring out of the speakers in her room, rending the ringing of her phone completely unnoticed. Dancing to the music, Katniss turned the tap of the shower and started to hum in accordance with the lyrics, her powerful voice carrying the sound and meaning of the words.

Say my name,

And every color illuminates,

We are shining,

And we will never be afraid again.

True to her word, Madge arrived forty-five minutes later, holding a garment bag over her left arm.

“Madge! Right on time!”

“Are you ready to get all dolled up?”

“No?” Katniss was looking around, checking the couch and coffee table, then moving to the kitchen counters.

“What are you looking for?”

“My phone. In case somehow there has been some kind of disaster and I can bail out tonight.”

“Come on, you’ll have fun! The Guanabara is a great club.”

“You’ve been there?”

“Yeah, Cinna invited us all for his birthday. He seems to know the owner of the place, so… it was fun.”

“I’m sure. Dammit, where is this phone?!”

Madge sat on the couch, but not before delicately placing the bag on the back of a chair.

“When was the last time you used it?”

“When I called you.”

“And where were you?”

A look of recognition passed in Katniss’ eyes as she stepped out of the living room, to the first door on the left – her bedroom.

“You’re a star, Madge, you just saved me!”

She appeared, looking at the screen.

“Well, too bad, Peeta said he will pick me up at 8. There’s still two hours, with a bit of luck I’ll break my leg.”

“Which will be useful for dancing, I’m sure.”

“Wait, there’s a message from Plutarch?” Katniss looked up from her phone, confusion clearly spreading on her face. What could the Director of the Dance possibly want with her?

“Maybe he wants to congratulate you?”

“Or maybe he’s telling me they made a mistake and I don’t have the part?”

“Or he called you by mistake and just apologized in the message for disturbing you.”

“No, it must be something bad, Madge!”

“Only way to know what it is is to listen to it, you know that.”

“Yeah… Doesn’t mean I want to.”

“Press the button, Katniss!”

And she pressed the tiny green app. And listened to the message.

“Yeah, you were right, it was a mistake.”

“See? Nothing to worry about! Now, try the dress on. I have to get home, we’re having Rory over tonight.”

“It will be fine, Madge, I trust you, go home.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yep. I still have two hours to hope a disaster happens, remember?”

“It’s going to be okay, Kat. You deserve a night out.”

“Yeah, and with a full day of rehearsals and practices tomorrow…”

Madge rose up from the couch, and wrapped Katniss in a kind hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Of course.”

And without another word, Madge was out of Katniss’ apartment.

That’s when Katniss allowed herself to shake, emotionally overwhelmed by the phone call she had received.

Plutarch had really called her on purpose.

To tell her they were taking a huge risk in giving her the role of the Firebird, but that they had seen an improvement in her dancing, and that she’d better rise up to the challenge.

The call had been a warning.

 

“Katniss!” She felt a hand on her arm, shaking her from her memories of the time in her appartment earlier that day. “Are you okay?”

Peeta’s voice was concerned, and she looked up at him, seeing the worry etched on his face. She couldn’t help but notice how blue his eyes were – surely he must have used contacts as she couldn’t recall knowing any shade of blue that bright in nature – and how his curls were curling on his forehead.

“I’m okay, I just kind of… zoned out?”

“You sure everything’s okay?” his face was more relaxed now, but the concern was still evident in his eyes.

“Yes, really. I was just thinking.”

Katniss took a look around, realizing that the crowd around her has thinned and had moved towards the dance floor in a mess of limbs and colorful dresses. She looked at her own and marveled at how well Cinna had chosen her outfit. The halter dress was a deep red, and complimented her olive-toned skin and dark hair perfectly. It clung to her curves without being too showy, and ended up just below her knees. It was perfect for an evening out at a Salsa club, and she would have to thank him.

“Okay. So I was wondering if maybe you’d like to dance?” Peeta asked.

“Me? With you?”

“Yes. You. Me. The dance floor, the music. You know, dance?”

She was stunned. She didn’t expect anyone to ask her to dance, as she was far from being at ease with these rhythms. And she didn’t expect Peeta of all men to ask her. She thought he would spend the evening dancing with Delly.

“Katniss? Please?”

“Only if Delly agrees, then.” She didn’t want to get between Peeta and his girlfriend, and would rather clarify any ambiguity before she agreed.

“Delly? Why would she need to agree to this?”

There was surprise and questioning in Peeta’s words, as Katniss looked around, searching for the young woman. At his comment, she turned to look at him.

“I wouldn’t want to put myself between you and your girlfriend.”

His stare turned intense and his eyes were full of things she couldn’t read to save her life. He didn’t laugh, instead anchoring his blue irises to her grey ones.

“Delly is not my girlfriend. We are childhood friends, and she’s now engaged to a very good guy named Thomas. I’m to be his best man at their wedding next year.”

“Oh.” Delly wasn’t his girlfriend.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t have one.

“And for your reference, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

How did he guess what she was thinking?

“I hope you don’t play poker, Katniss. Your face is like an open book,” he chuckled, adding, “And I’m not gay either. So now, do you wanna dance?” His right hand was extended to her, palm up, waiting for her own.

Half her mind wanted to refuse. The other wanted to take his hand, go onto the dance floor and lose herself to the music. Forget about the ultimatum Plutarch gave her, forget about everything. Just dance.

She took his hand.

He smiled.

He led her to the dance floor where bodies were already moving with precise steps. She was recognized by a few of the dancers, who cheered her, and she felt her fear escalating. What was she doing? She was going to look ridiculously clumsy, dancing around professionals on something she hadn’t rehearsed before. But she followed the mop of sweat-darkened curly blond hair until they reached the middle of the dance floor.

“Kitty Kat!!! It’s about time you stopped pouting and joined us!”

“I wasn’t pouting, Finnick. I was thinking.”

“Sure as hell looked like they weren’t happy thoughts. So loosen your corset a bit, Sugar, and dance!”

And without another word, he dragged his partner and wife into a series of spins and turns she easily followed.

“They used to be partners, you know.” Peeta said, as he watched the couple too.

“Oh, really? Why aren’t they anymore?”

“Annie had personal problems, and she never came back to professional dancing. Now, are you ready?”

“No?”

Peeta laughed but took her right hand in his left, lifting her arm slightly with his grip. His left hand went to the top of her thigh, and she could feel the warmth from his palms through her thin layer of clothing.

“Just follow me. We’re doing the basic salsa steps, the ones we taught you, remember?”

She nodded, realizing way too late she was much closer than she usually was when dancing with either Peeta or Finnick. She knew it made sense – the club was packed, while the practice room only held the three of them – but she was still more aware of her proximity to Peeta. But it was reassuring too, the smell that warmed her was the same as the one that lingered on the sweatshirt he gave her – or lent, she wasn’t sure – and which was still laying on the back of the chair in her bedroom. She had every intention of giving it back to him someday, when the smell of cinnamon and vanilla had completely faded. Of course, she’d have to pretend she’d only just found it.

But there was something so comforting in that smell – and she knew now it wasn’t coming from the kind of soap Peeta was using on his clothes, but that this smell was utterly him.

“Relax, Katniss, and just sway.”

Relax. Easier said than done. She was so used to being evaluated each time she danced, stared at to find all the little details that were going wrong, that even dancing like this was a test.

She never felt the spin coming. With a flick of his wrists she found herself turning, almost losing her balance, and being caught safely in Peeta’s arms.

“Stop overthinking. Listen to the music. Enjoy it. Let me guide you, just sway, and follow,” he whispered, his mouth having found a place near her ear. His mouth, and apparently all of the left part of his head that was now resting on her temple. She tried to relax, she really did, but couldn’t help thinking she would step on his feet, or do something ridiculous like fall as unsure as she was dancing on heels.

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you? You can’t dance if you don’t relax. To quote a famous choreographer, ‘feel the music, Katniss. Let her come to you, reach you. Let her be a part of you.’”

As if on cue, the rhythm changed to a slower pace, and she felt the proximity of Peeta’s body even more acutely than before. There was barely any space between them, and there was nothing she could do but follow his rhythm and his steps. He had that natural motion of dancers accustomed to this kind of music, and soon Katniss found it easier to follow him, rather than find her own moves.

With the realization that she could actually do it came the feeling of being able to let go – even if it was just a tiny bit. She felt his hand on her hips moving towards her back, as if to settle her close to him, but didn’t feel annoyed by it. It was the song, she decided, her Spanish good enough to understand the lyrics. It was a love song, and it should be a love dance. Could she be a lover, for a few minutes?

She could… try, maybe?

So she let herself fall into the music, to the sound, to the rhythm. Her pelvis matched her partner’s move for move, and she really let herself enjoy his proximity.

“Good, now just follow me… ” Peeta whispered.

But before she could ask what he was talking about, the hand on her back tensed, a strong thigh pressed between her own, as he bent her backwards, her dark hair falling like a curtain behind her. Then, as easily as he had pushed her backwards, Peeta pulled her back to him. She was sure she was flustered, her eyes wide open in surprise, and ready for a fight.

“Peeta! What was that??”

“Shh, it’s called dancing. Enjoy.”

And then he did it again, bending her backwards a bit lower even, holding her steadily, before repeating their little routine of steps. She didn’t want to admit that it was freeing to feel herself falling, but with the certainty that she wouldn’t crash to the floor, that someone was holding her up.

“We’re going to try a spin,” Peeta whispered.

“A spin? What should I do? One of the moves you taught me?”

“You do what you feel like doing. I’ll catch you.”

Taking a chance, she looked in his eyes, and saw so many things she didn’t want to analyze right here, right now. But there was something she recognized: he would catch her up, whatever her move would be. And she tried to convey in her glance that she trusted him.

“At 4…1;2;3…”

And with a move of his wrist and a push of his hand on her back, she felt herself starting to turn and more importantly, she started wanting to add a sway of her hips just then, and that bending her leg just like she was doing a pivot would be the right move. So she did it, and when she came back into Peeta’s arm, she saw the smile radiating from his face.

“That’s it, Katniss. Dance. Do what you want to, follow the music…”

And with that, he stopped speaking, and starting spinning her again.

-

“God, I’m thirsty! You mind if I grab a drink?”

“I could use a break too,” Peeta said, casually taking her hand in his. That’s what friendly hand holding must be, she thought, following him through the crowd, his stocky build allowing him to part the crowd, and make a beeline to the bar. They sat on two stools, and Peeta quickly caught the attention of the barmaid.

Shouting her name was a sure way to do it, proving he came to the joint quite often.

“Peeta! So good to see you again!”

“Hey, Tyncia. Long time no see! Still playing at the National?”

At his words, Katniss looked up from the list of drinks to meet the familiar eyes of the shy pianist who often accompanied her during practices.

“Martyna! What are you doing here? Are you working here too?”

“Hey, Katniss! It’s really you … I wasn’t sure when I saw you dancing with Peet here, I didn’t know you were into that kind of dancing!”

“Well, I’m not really into this but…” Katniss felt another blush coming to her cheeks. “It’s… I’m trying to work on something new on the side, for the Bolero, you know, and Haymitch came with this idea that Finnick and Peeta could help me…”

“Wow, that’s great, really! It must be a nice change for you to dance to this music. You did very well over there!” Martyna said.

“She did work hard and made a lot of progresses, don’t let her take herself down!” Peeta chimed into the conversation. “Oh, Tyncia, is Cinna here ?” Martyna nodded.

“He’s upstairs, trying to convince some band to come play one evening. Go see him!”

“Can I leave you alone a few minutes? I’d like to say hi?” Peeta gently asked Katniss.

“Sure, I’ll try to catch my breath!”

“Drinks are on me tonight, get whatever you want.” Then turning to the Martyna, Peeta said, “The usual for me, please!”

“Your Yuengling will be waiting for you, Peet!”

Without another word, Peeta left through a door next to the end of the bar.

Martyna looked around, making sure no customers were calling for her.

“I never thought I’d see you here, Katniss. And I never thought you’d go to Finnick and Peeta for help.”

“I forgot to ask you - how do you know him? Peeta?”

Martyna looked at Katniss, clearly surprised by her question.

“Well, Haymitch didn’t tell you?”

Katniss shook her head, surprised. What else had Haymitch hidden from her?

“Why would he? I was supposed to work with Finnick, so I never asked.”

“Oh. Well, Peeta was one of his dancers at the National until what, seven, eight years ago? He was supposed to become a principal after dancing the Bolero. Butn he broke his leg, badly, and never made it back to ballet dancing.”

“Peeta was a ballet dancer?!”

Surprise, astonishment, and shock rushed through Katniss at the same time as she took in the information Martyna gave her. Peeta? A ballet dancer? At the National?  
“I’m sorry, I thought you knew? And that it was why Haymitch introduced the both of you. Since you said it was to work on the Bolero.. “


	11. Step 11: Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news is out. Peeta was a ballet dancer before turning into Latine dances.  
> What happens next ? 
> 
> Find out in the next installment of The Firebird, Every Monday :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Monday - means Firebird update :) A little reprive from the politics around, right ?
> 
>  
> 
> My huge thanks to xerxia, dandelion-sunset for betaing and being so good friends, always wanting to help -thank you so so much ladies !
> 
> And to the fantastic, awesome, gifted and talented @akai-echo - you are awesome and I can’t thank you enough for your talent :)
> 
> Please do not hesitate to leave a comment - they are always welcomed :) Let me know what you think about this story !

"He was a ballet dancer? Peeta?" The words came out of Katniss’s mouth as shock spread into all of her, slowly sinking in. Flashes passed through her mind. Haymitch, avoiding answering specific questions. Peeta's grace, far different from Finnick's, the stocky build, coming from hours of practice, the way he placed his hands on her hips earlier tonight when she made her pivot – it was the same as a ballet dancer. It was the way a ballet dancer was taught to hold his partners.

"Katniss? Everything's all right?"

She froze at the sound of his voice, close to her ear. Too close.

"I... I gotta get out of here…"

She looked around, spotting her old leather jacket on the chair next to the one Annie was sitting on. Climbing down from her stool, she walked on shaking legs towards her possessions, grabbing her jacket and purse in an angry movement, not hearing a word of what Annie was telling her. The club around her was a fog, sounds distorted to muffled noises, the air heavy with sweat, alcohol and cologne.

She burst through the glass door, letting the music die behind her, and started walking down the pavement, breathing in the cool air of the night, trying to collect her thoughts. She felt her skin shivering under the assault of the cold, as she walked away from the club, trying to untangle the sleeves of her jacket from her bag.

She ignored the feeling in her stomach, or at least, she pretended to. She felt betrayed; by Peeta, by Finnick, but mostly by Haymitch. Why didn't anybody find it relevant to mention to her that her partner was an experienced ballet dancer? She wouldn't have looked like a total idiot, complaining about dancing to that stupid bolero to someone who could actually do it.

She finally managed to put her jacket right, sliding her arms in the sleeves, looking for a bit of warmth. Her mind, nonetheless, continued to wander to the dance sessions – noticing afterwards all the clues that were evident, the ones she hadn’t taken notice of before. The way Peeta and Haymitch had hugged, the first time she saw them. How he talked with Martyna that day, too. His knowledge of the bolero, far too precise to be only something he had made up on the spot. How could she have not seen those things?

She hurried a bit more, wanting to put as much distance between her and the club, hoping to reach the safety of her place as quickly as possible.

"Katniss! Wait!"

Of course Peeta Fucking Mellark would come after her. He wasn't a man who would leave a damsel in distress in the street, at night. As if Katniss was a damsel. Or in distress.

She heard the sound of his steps on the pavement, noticing for the umpteenth time how loudly he walked when he wasn't on stage. But she didn't want to talk to him right now. She just wanted to go home and think about everything that had happened today, from the announcement of her getting an important part, to this revelation of Peeta's past. So she did the only thing she could think of.

She started running.

Forgetting she was wearing heels.

She felt the pain in her ankle, before everything faded to black.

-

She opened her eyes just to immediately close them again. The light was too bright after the dark. Light? But it was supposed to be the night, no? She had just left the club, running away from Peeta, so why were there lights everywhere?

"Katniss? Open your eyes."

No, she would not comply. She didn't want the light right now.

"Katniss, I know you're awake. I'm going to call the nurse now." The man’s voice chimed into her brain, again.

Nurse? As in a hospital?

She finally lifted an eyelid carefully, just to assess that the room she was in was too white to be hers, and that there was a broad-shouldered, blond-curled man facing away from her, obviously talking to someone on the other side of the door. Peeta.

Finally opening both of her eyes, she tried to sit up in the bed, only to feel her head start spinning as soon as she was up, forcing her to grab the handles on the side of the bed to keep her balance. The movement she made wasn’t lost on the woman rushing into the room, passing by Peeta.

"Hey, there. How are you feeling?" The nurse started looking at the machines around her, before grabbing the chart at the end of the bed, writing something down in it.

"What happened?" Katniss asked, wondering why she was in the hospital.

She had no clue as to how she went from running from the Guatemala-whatever club to a hospital room.

"You fell head first on the pavement and lost consciousness. So I took you to the ER to be checked out," Peeta answered her, raking his hand through his hair as he walked towards the bed, positioning himself on the other side of the nurse.

"I fell? I don't fall! I have excellent balance!" she protested.

"Trust me, dear," the nurse chimed in. "Your boyfriend is right. You fell and are lucky to only have a few scratches on your knees. Now I'm going to test your joints, to be sure the ankles and knees are all right. You're a ballerina, right?"

Boyfriend? BOYFRIEND?

"He is…" she tried to deny the status of the man by her side.

She really did start. Wanted to deny it.

Before she could utter the next word, however, she felt something on her lips. Not a hand, no. Softer, warmer…. Like lips.

Peeta was kissing her.

Not a deep passionate kiss, but something very light, a butterfly kiss, just a feather of a touch, but it was enough to render her speechless, stunned by his gesture. As she tried to recover from her shock, she felt his mouth travel to her ear, where he whispered very quietly, "I told them I was your boyfriend so they would let me stay. Don't blow my cover." She didn't know what to do – except scowl and send daggers with her eyes. Her brain caught up with her rather quickly, finally persuading her to go on with this charade, resolving to deal with Peeta later. Because this kiss meant nothing, right?

Peeta had turned towards the nurse, being careful to take Katniss' right hand between his own, to her surprise. He was really playing the doting boyfriend well.

"How is she?"

"I'll tell you that in a minute. Miss Everdeen, do you feel pain anywhere?"

"My knee hurt."

"We'll start there, then." The nurse took the bedsheet off, and Katniss realized she was still wearing her dress. Her tights were definitely ruined, and she started to hitch up her skirt to get rid of them, when she remembered who was in the room with her. Her dance teacher turned fake boyfriend. There was no way she was going to show him more than what he needed to see.

"Can you, um…" she asked, looking at him shyly.

Realization spread across his face, and a blush started to appear on his cheeks as he took in what was happening. He clumsily looked around, trying to figure out what to do with himself until relief arrived, in the form of the still-opened door that he crossed to hastily.

"Ah, young love," sighed the nurse. "It's good to take time to get to know each other, before you - you know - do it."

"I'm sorry?" Maybe it was a residual effect of her contact with the pavement, but Katniss didn't understand what the older woman was saying. Or maybe she didn't want to understand.

"I was just saying, it's good to wait before having sex. People rush things nowadays. Now, let's get back to this knee. You're a ballerina, right? You didn't answer earlier."

The nurse helped Katniss take her tights off, and started placing her hands around her right knee, carefully touching it, checking for any problems. It gave the young woman the time to recover from what she just heard. Waiting for sex? Really? Why would the nurse think that? Oh, right – she didn't want Peeta to see her underthings, as she was pretty sure they were just friends, and friends don't do that in front of one another, right? She decided to ignore the comment, focusing on the most important thing – her joints.

"Yeah, I am."

"Okay. You need to tell me if it hurts, and if so, how badly, okay?"

"Sure."

Her knees were bent, stretched, bent again, and even twisted, without any noticeable pain, and Katniss felt hopeful she would be released from the hospital soon. She had tested her ankles under the sheets while the nurse was occupied with her knee, and knew everything was normal there. The stretching she did when warming her muscles before a rehearsal or a lesson was more painful than the nurse’s touch.

The nurse spent a few minutes on her ankles, before finally pulling the sheets back up

"Seems everything's fine, you will surely be a bit sore, but that's to be expected," the older woman said, opening the door. Katniss saw a now familiar mop of hair waiting in the doorway.

"You can come in, dear. She's all right. We're going to discharge her. Will you be the one monitoring her?"

"I'm sorry?" the comments came in sync. Peeta and Katniss shared a look of confusion.

"Oh, nobody told you? Well, you can be discharged, but as you were unconscious, we will need to have someone monitor you for 24 hours, just to be sure you don’t have a concussion. And I will need the name of said person, so we can have it in your file. It's just in case, but better safe than sorry, right?"

The silence that fell after the nurse’s words was all Katniss could hear. She didn’t want Peeta to intrude into her life more than he already had, and tried to convey her thoughts through the glare she sent Peeta’s way. She wasn’t ready for him to be so steady and unrelenting, not bending to her steely eyes, not caving to her demands. He stood there, just looking at her, seemingly oblivious to the nurse still standing next to them, waiting for a name to put on her charts.

Katniss was stubborn, but there was a strength pouring out of the blond man that gave no doubt who would win as far as her health was concerned.

"Fine!" Katniss hissed.

Peeta turned to the nurse, a smile widening by the second.

"Just put my name. Peeta Mellark…"

"Peter?" the nurse interrupted.

"No, Peeta. P-E-E-T-A M-E-L-L-A-R-K"

"Like the bakery?"

"Yeah."

"You're related to them?" the nurse asked again, leaving Katniss wondering what they were talking about.

"It's my family's, yes." Peeta seemed annoyed.

"Oh. That's why you're named like a bread!"

Peeta sighed, this time, almost losing his smirk. It was apparently not the first time he had to explain his name.

"No, it was supposed to be Peter. But apparently the woman at the desk who noted my name on the papers mistook it for Peeta. My dad pointed it out, but it was never corrected. So I'm stuck with this name now," he answered.

"I kind of like it. It makes you stand apart." The words had left Katniss's mouth before she realized she had spoken them.

She started blushing, because, frankly, why did she say that out loud? It was one thing to think it, but to let the world – and Peeta – know about it was something else. But she realized she kind of liked that he had a name that wasn't common, one that made him really stand apart – in a good way, not like the goofy first names she heard in the classes sometimes. The ideas the parents had, really….

"Oh, that's so cute! Well, if you could please add your phone number here," the nurse showed him a tiny place, "and here," another box, "we'll be done. I'll just go find Dr. Fitzgibbons and you can take Miss Everdeen home." Taking the chart with her, the nurse exited the room, leaving Peeta and Katniss alone.

"What was that? Why did you kiss me? Why did you pretend to be my boyfriend? Are you completely mad?"

Katniss was finally able to release the anger that had been slowly climbing since Peeta kissed her.

"I figured that you wanted…"

"Excuse me? In which universe did I allow you to kiss me?"

Peeta smiled and quickly brought a finger to Katniss's mouth to silence her.

"I thought that you would want to get out of here as soon as possible, and as I didn't know who to call to come and take you home, it was the best solution I could come up with. And I didn't want you to be all alone in this room without anyone around."

Oh. He was being kind. Just like he always opened the doors for women, or rose from the bench when she arrived... Or all the little things he did on a regular basis that she didn't pay much attention to.

"By the way, should I call someone? Your parents? Siblings? Friend? Boyfriend?"

And it hit her right here right now. She knew all of this, of course. Knew she was now without parents, her sister was an ocean away, and as for a boyfriend, there hadn't been one for a while now. She was alone. It was one thing to know, it was something else to hear it from someone else – someone that had no clue whatsoever about it.

It hit her hard in the chest, the pain of all of her losses, of all the distance and loneliness.

It hit her so hard so couldn't help but start crying. Sadness and pain overtook her as the tears started to fall from her grey eyes, falling silently on her red halter dress. Sobs echoed throughout her thin body, but Katniss kept her quivering lips closed, not allowing the sounds to leave her.

But there was nothing she could do. She had kept them for too long inside of her.

She cried the tears that didn't fall when her father died and she had to take over for her mother, to be sure her sister would be fed.

She cried the tears that didn't fall when her mother decided to leave this earth and she had to be strong to carry on her life. To fight to be the legal guardian of her sister. Or to just have food on the table.

She cried the tears that didn't fall when, after a full day of dance, she worked every night, balancing two part-time jobs to earn money.

She cried the tears that didn't fall when her previous boyfriend, Teddy, closed her door for the last time, carrying his box of things out of her apartment, never to come back. Because everybody left her eventually.

For the first time in her life, though, someone was there. Peeta was there. Without a hint of hesitation, he opened his arms and took her into a hug, gently pressing her against his solid chest.

Katniss could feel his hands, moving up and down her spine, comforting, as words poured out of his mouth to her ear – what he was saying she couldn't understand, but the smooth cadence of his voice soothed her sadness. It was like he was a Patronus to her dementored mind, slowly clearing out the dark thoughts that had invaded her head.

She had no clue how long she lingered in Peeta's warm embrace, but she could feel relief flowing through her – as well as a deep shame at crying in front of someone she’d known for only a couple of weeks. She hadn't even cried in front of Gale, her childhood best friend now turned park ranger in Montana, after the funeral of her mother. She hadn't cried during the night she spent consoling her sister before she left for Europe.

"I'm sorry – I'm not a crybaby type of girl…"

"I know that, Katniss. Don't worry. It needed to get out."

"I mean, I never usually –"

"You're clear to go, Miss Everdeen!" The chipper tone of the man coming into the room – Dr. M. Fitzgibbons if his badge could be trusted – as he looked at the chart in his hands.

"So, Mr…" He quickly looked from the papers to Peeta. "Mellark? Like the bakery? Oh, the cheese buns are to die for!"

He stared straight at Peeta, as if he expected him to answer or talk back, but nothing came, only Peeta's extended hand in the air.

"These are Katniss's discharge papers? I'll take them, and we'll be gone then."

"Oh, yes, they are. Well, Miss Everdeen, you're most definitely cleared for dancing, but take it easy for a few days. And if you experience any dizziness, anything wrong - dizziness, headache, nausea or vomiting, confusion, anything out of the ordinary, you call us, or have Mr. Mellark give us a call, right?"

Both nodded, waiting for the doctor to take his leave.

"Well, you can go, then. And I look forward to seeing you on stage, Miss Everdeen. I have my subscription for this year. Any clue which ballet you'll be in?"

"Not yet, doctor. We keep it secret until the last moment. It's not the dancer that counts, it's the whole group," Katniss answered, wiping her tears away.

"I will have to keep an eye out for you, then! Well, have a good day."

"Day? What time is it?" Katniss asked suddenly, feeling completely disoriented. She truly had no clue how long she had stayed in the hospital, just remembering it was 11 p.m. past when she exited the club.

"It's nearly seven-thirty AM."

"Oh my god, Peeta! Why did you stay all night here? I mean, you should have gone home!"

"It was the right thing to do," he answered softly, looking around for Katniss's jacket, which he found on the door hanger, along with her purse. "I didn't know who to call, your phone is locked, and I figured you would want to see a friendly face when you woke up. So I stayed. It's no big deal, Katniss, really."

But it was. He had spent the night away from his family, or whoever was waiting for him, to just stay here with her, so she wouldn't be alone when she woke up.

"It is, Peeta! You have a show tonight and you need your rest!"

"I'll take a nap this afternoon, don't worry." He shrugged.

"And what is it with your name? Why does everybody know you? Why don't I?" She could feel the scowl showing on her face.

"Would you like breakfast, Katniss?"

"What?" That wasn’t the answer she expected.

"Breakfast? My treat?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm hungry. Now put your coat on, and let's go. I'm your keeper for the day."

\---

"Honestly, you can just drop me home and I swear if I feel dizzy I'll call the doctor. No need for you to waste your day with me," Katniss said, looking at the buildings passing by.

After a painfully long walk out of the hospital, with Katniss walking precariously on her pair of heels all the while attempting to try to convince him she could take a cab home, she had finally let Peeta settle her into his car.

"If you're dizzy, you won't be able to call the hospital. You're stuck with me all day, Katniss."

She could see him carefully checking the heavy morning traffic before merging into the street.

"I can take care of myself! I've been doing this for years!" Katniss said, anger never far from the surface.

"Then tell me who to call to watch over you, and I'll be gone," Peeta answered her simply, before putting his turn signals, because he was just that kind of guy.

She tried to get deeper into the car seat.

"I don't need anybody."

Peeta quickly turned his head and shot her a look.

"Give me one number and I'll leave you alone," he said simply.

"Haymitch's."

"Well played, Sweetheart. But it won't work. He's gone for the weekend."

"How do you know that?" How could he know that her teacher was away? Were they that close to one another?

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Katniss was starting to get comfortable with the banter between herself and Peeta. It was strange how easy it was talking to him, and she could see herself laughing easily at the things he would say if it wouldn't please him so much. But wouldn't it? Wouldn't it be good for her to let go for once, to laugh and chat with someone without a care in the world? How long had it been since she made a new friend?

Gale was long gone, settled in Montana, and she remembered how excited he was the last time she went there. They had known each other for decades, having grown up together. On one of their hikes in the Glacier National Park, he told her how he had fallen head over heels for a blonde journalist. Katniss was later introduced to Cressida, a smart young woman who graduated from Berkley in Journalism and was now working for one of the big networks in Helena.

Madge had been spending the last year and a half planning her wedding to her own Dr. Derek, a veterinarian she met at one of her dad's parties.

Katniss understood distance and life had taken a toll on her friendships – she wasn't going to argue about that, or whine at her friends for making lives of their own. And then it was Prim's turn to fly away, to the other side of the ocean, leaving her all alone.

Alone.

She looked at the buildings surrounding Peeta's car, taking in the unfamiliar landscape.

"Where are you taking me? We should have turned on Rodger's to get to my place..."

"I told you. Breakfast."

"There was a Starbucks just outside the hospital. It would have been perfect."

"I'm not eating anything from there. They shouldn't be called pastries, they’re barely pre-made so-called dough with a little bit of toppings. I can't believe people find them edible. I mean, I'm pretty sure there is not an ounce of butter in those. How can they call something a pastry if there isn't butter? Butter makes the taste! Butter binds all the other ingredients together, and gives them this flavor, you know? But no, they don't use it. They use this oleo nonsense so they can claim it's fat free!"

She didn't know what started it really. His rant against Starbucks, or pro-butter, the way he started to speak with the hand that wasn’t on the wheel, the seriousness of his face as he delivered his monologue, but a bubble started in Katniss's mouth, quickly turning into laughter. And this time she let go. It was too much, watching this usually serious, caring, kind man getting mad at something as superficial as Starbucks non-pastries. Everybody knew they weren't made in the back kitchen.

"It's like eating cardboard! Why are you laughing, Katniss?" His eyes were wide with surprise and concern. "Are you feeling okay? Do you hurt anywhere? Katniss? Answer me!"

But Katniss was hugging her ribs tightly, tears falling from her eyes, as she laughed away her pain and sorrows.

"Katniss!"

Peeta had stopped the car on the side of the road and was now leaning over to Katniss, worry clearly spread on his face. He touched her arm, sliding his hand up and down, in a reassuring manner, like a father would do to his child, but she went on laughing so much it hurt her.

Quickly, his warm arms encircled her, hugging her, comforting again.

And once again, she smelled his scent, what she had catalogued in her head as Peeta-flavor, a mix of leather, cinnamon and something Peeta.

Pressed on his warm chest, Katniss started to relax, letting the strong arms soothe her, his heartbeat calming her erratic one, letting him whisper sweet nothings in her ear all over again.

She could get used to this closeness, she realized. She didn't feel trapped in an unbreakable embrace, and knew right away that at the slightest movement on her part, he would let her go. But the truth was she didn't want to move right now. So she told him.

He whispered his answer in her ear. "So we won't move."


	12. Step 12: Breakfast at Mellark's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's time for Katniss to leave the hospital and discover Butter Paradise.
> 
> Be ready for chapter 12 - let me warn you, if you're not hungry, you'll soon be ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last week has been kind of … epic for some of you. The news that were brought to the world were not exactly what we over the pond expected.
> 
> I wondered for a while whether I should post this chapter today, or delay it a week.
> 
> Then I thought - I’m French so… why not. And maybe it can bring a bit of happiness in your corner of the world, right?
> 
> I can’t say enough thanks to the Firebird Squad (yes, that’s their official name, now.) @dandelion-sunset, @titaniasfics and @xerxia31 for their HUGE help looking after the typos, the commas and the slight changes of POV.
> 
> And to @akai-echo whose kindness is as big as her talent for making this banner and aesthetics…. 
> 
> As usual if you liked, please say so. If I take into account the number of people who read the chapter and the number of reviews, I must do something very wrong so few of you like it.
> 
> Without further bla-bla…

When Katniss finally let go of Peeta's arms, she didn't feel the awkwardness she had expected. Lifting her eyes to meet his, she only saw concern and kindness on his face, and real worry.

"I'm okay. It's just, your rant about butter, you know? I've never seen anyone get mad at just… butter."

"Well, you've clearly never talked to someone who spent days mixing butter with other ingredients to make cakes or pastries, or squares. Butter is like the most important thing in a bakery."

"How do you know so much about it?"

"I grew up in a bakery. Nobody messes with butter on my watch." Peeta leaned forward to turn the key into the ignition, starting the car.

"Who would have guessed Peeta Mellark was the Jon Snow of the Butter Watch?"

The seriousness on Peeta's face as he looked at her was only lessened by the small smirk he sported.

"Now, Katniss, there is one rule: we don't talk about Jon Snow in this car, as long as we don't know what happened to him."

She smiled at his comment.

"Damn straight. Now will you tell me where we're going? I guess it's a place where there will be butter?"

He smiled. "Plenty. We're nearly there, so I'll leave you in suspense?"

"I don't like surprises, Peeta."

"You can grinch as long as you want to later, but for now, just enjoy."

"I don't have a clue if I'm going to enjoy anything!"

Not bothering to answer, the smug expression on his face a clear show of confidence, Peeta turned right, onto a street that led them past residential houses, all lined along the pavement, surrounded by gardens, with trees everywhere.

"What is this?" Katniss asked, not knowing at all where she was.

"It's D12, a suburb built a few decades ago, before the town’s expansion. There were twelve neighborhoods in all, each with its own style. Here, it’s big wooden houses with gardens, 4 is located closer to the river, so it has a marine setting. They all have their own touch. You're not from here, right?"

"No, I grew up in West Virginia. This is great! And this is where your Butter Paradise is?"

"Yup. Two blocks down. It's easy to spot, the building's all blue."

"Blue? Whose idea was that?"

"My dad's."

With those words, Peeta stopped the car and extended his arm, tucking a lock of hair behind Katniss's ear before slowly moving to her shoulder, turning her to face the other side of the road.

"We're here."

Through the window, she saw the very baby blue building displayed in front of her. Over the main entrance was a sign, written in orange letters, just labelled "Mellark's." The large door opened and closed, as a constant flow of people came in and out of what Katniss deduced was a shop. Her detective skills amazed her at times.

"What's this?"

"I should be offended you’re asking! The best bakery in all the area!"

"You're a baker? Why didn't I know that?"

"You never asked, maybe," he answered, opening the door and getting out of the car.

Katniss stared at customers leaving with bread under their arm, or brown packages she was sure were full of delicacies, containing real butter. Her mouth watered as she thought about the taste of the pastries here, and hoped, really hoped that cheese buns were on the list. Picking her bag up from the floor of the car, she tried to open the door, only to realize, too late, that Peeta had already taken care of that for her, and was offering his hand to help her out.

"I know, you can do it all alone, but my father taught me to help a lady out of the car, and I bet he's watching us right now. So, please?" He had a puppy smile on, his blue eyes were sparkling, and she could use the help, even though she wasn't ready to ask for it yet.

"Okay, if it's for the sake of showing your dad your good manners." She grabbed his hand, noticing he didn't move his arm as she exited the car, allowing her to lean on him to preserve her ankle. She knew he was well-built; he was a dancer after all. But she had never realized he was that strong, even after seeing how he lifted Finnick in that dance the other day. Dance. She turned to him, remembering why they were here in the first place. Of course he was strong. Years and years of ballet training ensured that.

"Peeta. We need to talk!"

"I know. And we will. But breakfast first, if you will." He opened the large glass door of the shop and stepped aside, to let her go first, another show of his good manners.

Her jaw dropped at the sight in front of her. And the smell. The smell was amazing. Fresh bread, chocolate, cinnamon, orange, cheese…. Baskets full of different breads lining the wall in front of which displayed all kind of individual cakes. On the left, on the other side, another cabinet showed the pastries, some still steaming and giving the place the awesome smell of fresh home-made products.

"Peeta!" She was snapped out of staring by the sound of a deep baritone voice coming from the other side of the counter. Reluctantly lifting her eyes from the pastries – yes, there were cinnamon rolls – Katniss met another pair of stunning blue eyes that answered her question regarding Peeta's. They were not contact lenses, he obviously shared them with his father and brother. Two men rounded the countertop to meet them. Peeta was hugged by a man in his fifties, his dad obviously, before being high-fived by the second man who looked slightly older than him.

"Baby Bro!"

"Will, hey, how's Lauren?"

"Great! Grumpy, swollen, chocolate-addicted, but she's great."

Katniss, thanks to her awesome detective skills again, deduced this Will was Peeta's brother as they shared the same blue eyes, stocky build and blond hair, though Will's was a shade darker and not curly at all. He was also a few inches taller than Peeta, and his features weren't as attractive as his brother, with a nose that had obviously been broken, and that sported a small bump between the eyes.

Wait. When did she start finding Peeta attractive?

"Katniss?" A hand touched her elbow, dragging her back into the present, and she turned to the left, facing the youngest of the three Mellarks.

"Katniss, this is my dad, Henry, and my brother William." They both extended their hands to take hers, and she wasn't surprised to find them large, steady and warm.

"I'm Katniss, a friend of Peeta's," she replied, watching him from the corner of her eye, as if to confirm they were indeed friends. His smile was the answer she needed.

"So what are you both doing here this early in the morning?" Henry asked, as the set of bells above the door rang again, and new people came into the bakery.

"I thought I could show Katniss what real pastries are. She still goes to that-place-that-shall-not-be-named, you know?"

Henry frowned, the gap between his eyebrows becoming prominent as he looked over at Katniss, before addressing her.

"You're not one of these no-butter, no-fat girls, right?"

Katniss thought about the amount of junk food still present in her fridge and cupboards. If someone's job was to be guessed from their grocery list, nobody would think she was a ballerina. They would expect a regimen of a carrot a day, with a sprinkle of parsley for the big occasions. Truth was, the amount of physical exercise a dancer had to go through on a daily basis allowed them a regimen richer in terms of calories. So Katniss was no stranger to pizza and pasta on a regular basis, grabbed from the lovely Italian place not far from her building. 

"No, not at all. But I've rarely been inside a, you know, a real bakery. This place is awesome!"

The bells rang again, and more people came in, forming a line in front of the register, now manned by William.

"Thank you, dear. It's been family owned since 1857, go figure. You both go behind, and you help yourself to anything. We'll talk later! Now hush! Some of us actually have to work!"

Peeta chuckled at his father as he took her hand as discreetly as possible, to help Katniss take the remaining steps that led behind the counter.

Behind the swinging doors was the largest kitchen she had ever seen. A long counter lined two of the four walls, ovens were blazing their heat into the room to give it a comfortable warmth, despite the open windows on the top of the walls. There were sacks of flour, neatly stacked under the counters, a collection of glass jars on the shelves filled with powders, spices and even honey, and a very large fridge, whose contents remained unknown to Katniss but nonetheless left her salivating as her mind tried to imagine all the beautiful cakes that could possibly be made.

Finishing her visual inventory of the room, she found Peeta looking at her with a huge smile on his face, and both his hands on a stool he had taken from under one of the counters. He pushed it towards the table Katniss was leaning on until she could easily sit on it.

As she was adjusting herself on the high stool an alarm went off, and Katniss watched Peeta open one oven with a practiced grace, checking something inside before setting the timer again. He was finishing when Henry came in.

"It's okay, Dad, I added five more minutes, the crust wasn’t finished yet."

"You changed the heat?"

"Yep, down forty-five. Can I grab a few things?"

"Of course. Now, Katniss dear, are you more a tea or coffee kind of girl?"

She actually was both. Never one to say no to a morning rush of caffeine to start the day, or to savor a good mint tea in the afternoon.

"Hum, both?"

Henry started looking through the boxes lined on the shelf above the counter, perusing through them until he found the one he had obviously been searching for.

"Here we go. Peeta, give me the milk will you?"

The young man nodded and opened another fridge, grabbing a jug of milk before handing it to his father, who started pouring it in a pan over the stove.

"So, Katniss, what would you like to eat?" Peeta asked, looking at the goods displayed in the racks. "We have croissants, chocolate croissants, apple turnovers, cheese buns, cheese buns, bread of course, and what's that, Dad?" he asked, pointing at a round kind of bun.

"French brioche. The French couple who live down on Elm Street gave me their family recipe, and I've been trying it for a few weeks now. It turned out well. Seems people are taking a liking to it," Henry said.

"We'll try that, if it's okay with you, Katniss? What else would you like?"

She felt herself slightly blushing, feeling it was quite inappropriate to ask for her favorite, the cheese buns still cooling.

"Nonsense, dear. Grab the buns, Peeta. Alas for you, these are mine, not Peet's. He's the master bunner." Henry said, making Katniss realize she had actually said the words out loud - again.

"Dad…."

"What, son? It's true. Your buns are better than Will's and mine. Here."

Without another word, Henry took a little tray and grabbed a few cheese buns from the plate they were cooling on before choosing a brioche. Turning to the fridge, he grabbed some fresh butter, retrieved knives from the drawer and put the plate on the table, all in front of Katniss.

"Now dear, I'm sorry, but I thought you needed something stronger than coffee or tea. You don't have any problem with chocolate, right?"

"Some people have problems with chocolate?"

"You'd be surprised," Henry answered. "I take it you're not one of them?"

"No, absolutely not. I love chocolate."

"Good girl." Henry turned back to the stove, stirring the milk in the pan, then adding chunks of dark chocolate to it.

The wooden door opened and Will's head popped in, a small smile on his face, looking around, searching for someone.

"Dad, can you please come? It's Mrs. Weston, for the birthday cake? The pony one?"

"Ah yes. Will you be okay here? Peeta, you'll need to…"

"I'm on it, Dad, don’t worry."

And in a flash, Peeta had replaced his father behind the stove, cautiously stirring the hot drink in the pan, as Katniss rested, looking around her and at him, amazed.

"Pony cake? Really?"

"That's not the worst of it. You don't want to know what we're asked to bake for bachelorette parties."

"We? You still work here?"

"Yeah, Sundays are quite busy and I’ve always enjoyed the bakery." Peeta grabbed a mug from the cupboard above the stove and poured the brown concoction in it and placed the cup in front of her.

"Mellark's hot chocolate. Dad's recipe."

"You’re not having one?"

"I'm much more a tea guy, actually," he answered, taking the kettle out of the stove, and putting it in another mug.

"You'd rather have tea than hot chocolate?" her tone of voice clearly letting him know how crazy she thought it was.

"Too much chocolate can do things to your stomach. Try eating a whole box of it, and we'll talk about it again. Now, did you try the cheese buns?"

He pushed the plate in front of her, and took a slice of brioche which he covered with a good amount of butter.

"Come on, eat, Katniss. You're my responsibility for the day, and I'm going to provide you with good food at least."

The young woman really wanted to eat. But there was something weighing on her too, the thing that caused her to run from the club last night, and the whole not-falling on the ground debacle that followed.

"Can we talk first?"

She expected Peeta to sigh and protest, tell her they would talk about it later, as every other man would do.

"Okay. What do you want to talk about?"

He put his slice of heavily buttered brioche in front of his mug, and looked directly at her, ready to listen to what she had to say.

"Wow. I thought you would, you know, try to delay this."

"Why? We talk, then we eat. And we can digest on a full stomach calmly. So, why did you run from the club? Did I do something inappropriate?"

Did he do anything inappropriate? she asked herself, wondering how the conversation had turned from the "we need to talk" to "is it my fault" in a matter of seconds. And, really, was it his fault? He didn't tell her he used to be a ballet dancer, but maybe he had his reasons, reasons he didn't want to share. She felt betrayed, judged by someone she came to for help, someone who didn't have any input into her world.

"Yes… no, I don't know!" she huffed, her lack of words making her temper rise. She wasn't good at expressing herself, at calmly stating her arguments, she had always reacted on instinct only, finding it easier to speak with her body rather than her mouth.

But she needed to find the words, now. Peeta had shown nothing but kindness and care for her, and he didn't deserve her anger.

"So you don't know why we need to talk? Just tell me why you ran from the club. I thought you had a good time?"

Okay, she could do it. Start with the club.

"I'm not good with words, okay? Yes, I had a good time at the club, I enjoyed the music, and it was fine."

"It's the dance, right? It was too much? I'm sorry, Katniss, I let myself go to the music, but the combination of good music, a beautiful woman in my arms, I went too far. I apologize."

"What? No, I didn't think it was too much, it's not…. And what do you mean by beautiful?"

He did say he found her beautiful, she was almost sure she didn't imagine this part. It could be the effect of the pills she had taken earlier, right?

"So what was the problem? Why did you run?"

"You never told me you danced!" she blurted suddenly.

Peeta's eyes suddenly widened at her sentence.

"I thought it was quite obvious? We spent hours dancing together?"

"No! Not like this! You're a ballet dancer! You should have told me!"

"Why?"

"What why?"

"Why should I have told you I used to be a ballet dancer?"

"Because! It makes all the difference!"

"Does it?"

"Yes! It does!"

"Really? Why?"

"Because you judged me!"

"No, I didn't. It's not my place to judge anyone. I never judged you, Katniss. I'm trying to help you out, so you can be the best version of yourself on scene."

"But why didn't you tell me you were a ballet dancer! You lied to me!"

"You never asked. You never asked me or Finnick about our backgrounds. We thought you knew, that Haymitch told you, or somebody, and that you didn't care."

"Wait? Finnick is a ballet dancer too?"

"No, not at all." Peeta chuckled, before taking a sip of his tea. "He has no classical ballet background, he started by line dancing, if I remember well. Let me see." He took his phone out of his pocket and started looking at something in the browser.

"Ah, yes, here is the Wiki page." Peeta held out his phone to her, opened on the familiar website.

Wait. A. Minute. Finnick had a Wikipedia page?

Finnick Seamus Odair, born in New York in April 2nd 1984, is a three-time world champion in Latina dances with his partner Annie Cresta. He is currently the head choreographer for the show "La Vida Loca" and will make his first appearance in this season of Dancing with the Stars next February. His partner is for now unknown.

He was a world champion? Three times? She looked at Peeta, who had resumed the stirring of his tea, and quickly put his name in the Wikipedia search box.

Peeta Colin Mellark, born in Cincinnati, Ohio on October 1st 1988 is a former ballet dancer with the National Ballet until March 2010 when he quit, following an accident. He is a main dancer in the "La vida Loca" show.

"Colin, really?"

"What can I say, my mom had weird names choices," he said with a chuckle. He wasn't even upset she had looked him up. 

She scrolled down the page, and found links to YouTube videos, different articles. She would check them later on her own. She needed to address this ballet thing now.

"So, why did you run?"

Really, she asked herself, why did she run away? After Martyna's words, she figured he hid his previous career on purpose, not wanting to tell her how lame she was. But now, the word "accident" loomed around her mind in a whirlwind. Did she want to tell him why she ran away? She hesitated at sharing her thoughts with him.

Katniss heard Peeta sigh gently, but instead of pushing her to talk, he started telling his own story.

"I had an accident in March that year, I almost lost my leg. A drunk driver hit my car, and well, as luck had it, he did escape with no injuries, but with some years behind the bars. I had several operations, and it still hurts when I dance too much. But there was no way I could go on using it in ballet. It was too painful, too risky, too… fragile. So I quit, and my good friend Finnick told me they were looking for dancers in his show. I auditioned and was taken, despite the amount of work it took for me to learn how to dance, and how to loosen my corset, as Haymitch would say. I'm good now, don't worry. And really, when you dance, I don't look at you as a ballet dancer who struggles with emotions or anything. I see a bird trying to expand its wings to fly higher, to try to reach the sun – even if it's unreachable. You've made so much progress in your dancing, Katniss. You're going to nail the Firebird. And if you let me dance with you again, we're going to make you dance the most beautiful Bolero ever, Girl on Fire."

Girl on Fire?"

"That's what Edna nicknamed you. Girl on Fire."

Edna? She searched her memory to figure out who Edna was until the image of the old woman from the shoe shop came to her mind.

"Girl on Fire? Well, that's a new one." She tugged at the hem of her black vest to keep her hands occupied while she sorted the words in her head.

"I'm not good with words, okay?" Katniss said, when she heard Peeta chuckle, and she looked at him, fully aware of the scowl that's forming on her forehead. "What? It's true!"

"I didn't say it wasn't true, Katniss. I was expressing my agreement."

"You just can't say you agree, can you?"

"Nope. Where would be the fun in that? So, what did you want to tell me, while being not good with words?"

Ah yes. The unavoidable. But she started it, after all, by running away from the club. She owed him an explanation. She started fidgeting with the hem of her vest again.

"I don't like surprises. Surprises mean bad things." Peeta looked at her, surprise written all over his face. "I know it's stupid, right? But for me, surprises don't mean a gift on a random day or flowers, or a cheese bun brought in because someone just thought about it." She took a deep breath, maybe it was time to start letting things go, as Dr. Aurelius had told her several times over, to let the walls down, to start talking to someone who would listen. And who was better than Peeta for that?

"Surprises mean finding my sister is packing to go study in Paris for one year – maybe three now." She let the air pass through her body before taking another breath, summoning her strength to keep on talking. "Or coming home to find your sister crying at your mother who committed suicide." She didn't look up, didn't want to see the pity in the eyes of the man sitting in front of her. Another deep inspiration, another bit of courage, another wall to crumble. "Or having to struggle with a depressed mother for years, so depressed she was lost to this world from the moment my dad passed away." There it was, all in the open. The tough days, the abandonment, the struggles. All the cards were on deck, for him to see or leave them here. Time to go for the kill. "So, yes, I left the club, because I was surprised, and I thought you didn't tell me on purpose that you were a ballet dancer, that you hid it from me, just to make fun of me. I couldn't look at you if you thought I was helpless. So I ran. Not my smartest move, apparently." She didn't look at him, not wanting to realize her words would make him run away.

"You know how amazing that makes you, right?" the voice, usually so rich, so full, came as a whisper to her ears. A hand lightly found its way on her arm, a soft warmth penetrating her skin through the layer of clothes. "Thank you for telling me this, really. I know it's been tough, it's written all over your body, and I feel privileged you deem me worthy of knowing all this." The hand on her arm started to move up and down, leaving a trace of warmth in their movement. Katniss heard him take a deep breath, as the feel of warmth disappeared from her arm.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he apologized, busying himself with another slice of brioche and butter, averting her eyes.

"It's okay, it felt… good," she answered shyly, trying to meet his eyes to confirm that it was really okay. All the dancing they've done had accustomed her to his touch, to the feel of his fingers and hands on her skin and through her clothes. And it was far from being unpleasant. The smile he gave her could have lit a room on a very dark night.

"Can I, um, taste that?" Katniss asked, pointing at the brioche in front of him. He nodded and started cutting her a slice too, taking extra care to spread the butter on it.

"You never answered my questions, you know?" she asked as she watched him skillfully buttering the pastry.

"What?"

"You said I was beautiful? That you wanted to dance with me? Why?"

At her words, Peeta chuckled.

"You really don't know? The effect you can have?" He handed her the brioche. "You are beautiful, Katniss, and when you dance, sometimes, you are as radiant as the sun. And I really enjoy dancing with you. Questions answered, right? Now, eat your brioche, grab whatever you want from here before I drive you home."

Home. Where she could rest and think about what happened. And look at those videos on the internet. She nodded, her mouth full of fluffy goodness, starting to gather the things she'd like to eat all day long, spread on her couch, watching crappy TV.


	13. Step 13 : The Longest Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta is still on Katniss Duty - until the next morning.  
> Wanna know what they spend the day doing?
> 
> Warning: fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the Fantastic Four helping me with this story - @xerxia31, @dandelion-sunset, @titaniasfics for the betaing help and @akai-echo for the banners and aesthetics - thank you. Thank you for believing in me and in this story, and giving up so many hours to help me make it better.
> 
> So... we're heading into the second half of this story .. I can't wait to hear what you think about it :) Please do not hesitate to leave a message, or a review :) They truly make my mornings :)
> 
> Without further blah blah ...

She apparently didn't think it through thoroughly.

Because his idea of taking her home was to drive her to her place so she could take a quick shower and change out of her dirty clothes, then bring her to his place so they both could rest and he could keep his word of looking after her, in case she had a concussion.

She threw a fit, didn't want to go to his place, didn't want to change, or move, but he had the patience of a saint, the ability to make her bend, and a stubbornness that equaled her own, which was saying something. He made sure she understood that the only way he was going to move from his spot, leaning against her kitchen counter, would be to take her back to his place.

She caved.

He drove them to his place, where he offered her his bed – which she refused, settling instead on the sofa, holding the remote. He went to his room to take a nap, telling her to holler for him if she needed anything, making sure to leave the pastries they had grabbed at the bakery on a plate, next to a full pitcher of water. Pouring herself a glass, she noticed he didn't close the door to his room, probably to make sure she didn't collapse while moving around.

Coming from any other person, this behavior would have annoyed Katniss to no end, but she knew that it was what made Peeta, Peeta. He was a true gentleman, always opening the doors for the women he walked with, or lending his sweater to anyone who was cold. Making sure the music wasn't too loud, the steps weren’t too quick. He had this Boy Scout demeanor about him, and she understood it was a part of him.

A part of him that frustrated her today. She had planned to rest at her place all weekend long, only leaving her couch on Sunday to skype with Prim. But now she was being held hostage in a flat she didn't know, with the prospect of going to a show she had already seen, tonight. Because Peeta made it clear that until 8:00 AM the next morning, he wasn't going to leave her side.

Maybe she could escape during the show. She had to start planning.

And no, she wasn't being over-dramatic. Perfect planning prevented whatever it was it prevented.

Maybe she could just pretend to be sitting in the audience and actually catch a cab home? She didn't want to waste Peeta's evening having to look after her, she was a grown woman, thank you very much. And she definitely didn't need a babysitter or a nanny to tell her where to sit or what to do.

That's it. She would be sneaking out discreetly from the audience, and go back home. Ben and Jerry were waiting for her in her freezer.

Now relaxed and confident her escape would be easy, she picked another cheese bun from the plate, and turned on the TV. Time for culture and zombies.

-

Her plan clearly established, Katniss remained quiet during the rest of the afternoon, until Peeta stepped out of his room, hair tousled, eyes still full of sleep, his hands outstretched above his head as he stretched, his shirt lifting, showing his defined abs.

"Sorry," he said, making Katniss realize she was looking at his left hand, still in his hair trying to tame his wild curls. Again, she saw a glimpse of ink on his left wrist that left her wondering for the umpteenth time what the drawing was.

"You're staring, Katniss."

"What? No?" She tried to duck her head, pretending to search for the remote that was in her hand. She heard him chuckle and lifted her eyes, noticing with a bit of disappointment that the shirt now covered his stomach.

"Yes you were. It's okay. Tell me what you were looking at."

She knew she'd been caught in the act, her hand in the proverbial cookie jar, and was searching for a white lie to tell, when she spotted him looking at his wrist.

"Of course," he muttered, coming closer to the couch she was still sitting on. "May I join you?"

"It's your sofa, Peeta." He rounded the furniture before dropping on her right side.

"Here, have a look." He extended his arm, wrist up, displaying his tattoo.

"Wow, Peeta, it's beautiful."

A small dandelion was inked on the fair skin of his forearm, just under his hand, with the seeds seemingly flying in the air, blown by a gentle breeze that somehow changed them into birds. The drawing was beautiful, delicate, each seed flying in the same direction, but each utterly different from the others. Some seeds were half-birds, half-dandelions, but they looked as light as the two components they were taken from.

"Thanks. I wanted something special, and as I was free from the ballet I could get one. That rule is still on?" Katniss was still looking at his wrist, tracing the thin lines on his skin with her finger, marking every turn.

"They’re not forbidden anymore, but it's better to limit them to where they can be covered, you know?"

"Yeah, I understand. I had this done after the accident, when I was finally done with physical therapy, and came to terms with leaving the ballet after all those years. My mom would have been happy."

His voice was wistful, as if lost in a memory, far away.

"Your mom? She didn't support your career?"

Sadness. That's all she could see in Peeta's eyes as he turned to her, that and the length of his eyelashes, which Madge would kill to have. He let out a forced laugh, so different from the ones she’d already heard when they were joking with Finnick.

"My mother didn't support anything I did, you see."

Katniss was sure she hadn't understood correctly. Surely the fall she’d taken had caused some damage to her eardrums or something. How could such a sweet, kind man like Peeta not have the support of his mother?

"I'm sorry?"

Peeta shifted on the couch, bending until his arms were on his lap, head down. Somehow, Katniss realized, her hand had followed his movement, as she was still holding his wrist, but she didn't think he noticed.

"My dear mother lost all interest in me the moment it turned out that I wasn't the little girl she was hoping for. She didn't sign the paper to change my name. Don't get me wrong, I like it now, but just imagine middle and high school with that first name. She mocked me when I told her that I wanted to take ballet classes, insisting that even wearing a tutu, I wouldn't be her little girl, that it wasn't worth trying."

Katniss was shocked at the bitterness of the words – and was pretty sure Peeta was keeping the worst to himself.

"And your dad? He seems to be a good guy? He didn't say anything?"

"She made sure to tell me those things when we were alone. She ignored me when the rest of the family was there. And even though I kept on giving her things, or kept on trying to hug her, she pushed me away."

"Wow. And where is she now? Did she ever apologize?"

"She died of breast cancer six years ago. The tattoo is half for the ballet, half for her. Took me years of therapy to let her go, to be me, not what I thought she wanted me to be. I wanted to have something that freed me somehow, you know? The hospital I was in had this view of a meadow, and in spring there were these dandelions everywhere, just like a sea of gold… When the sun came down in the evening, everything turned that shade of orange I like, just as if some flower fairy had painted the dandelions with tiny bits of sunrays… And after, when the seeds were flying in the wind, sometimes I imagined they were birds migrating to another country, freeing themselves, flying free. I drew this, and well, I knew that was what I wanted as a tattoo. That's the story."

Lost in his words, she didn't realize immediately that her hand had slipped higher from his wrist and their fingers were now twined together. Peeta was lost in his memories, his gaze far away from the screen of the television he seemed to be staring at, and she didn't dare move or speak. She decided to enjoy the moment, to fully take in all Peeta told her – the trauma of having a mother who clearly didn't love him, treated him badly, mocked his choices. And despite that, he had become the charming, caring, friendly man she was beginning to know and appreciate. A little. A little too much.

She struggled to find the right thing to say, the words that would soothe his soul and clear his eyes, that would take the burden from his shoulders and let him fly, like the little black birds drawn on his wrist.

But Katniss wasn't a words person. She was a woman of action, of grace, of stealth. She could make the most difficult jumps and land on one foot with little to no noise, could step into a room unnoticed, silent as a cat. So she did what she'd been doing since before she could remember. She followed her instincts.

She leaned closer to him, sucked in a breath and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, almost a whisper.

She tried to retreat almost immediately, feeling him holding her hand tighter, their fingers even closer than before, as he moved his head to look at her in amazement. Neither realized how close to each other they were. Their foreheads were barely a breath apart as they looked in each other eyes.

Gone was the sadness and tears; Peeta's blue eyes now shone with a different kind of light.

Gone was the fear and uncertainty from Katniss, her pupils now clear as the sky on a beautiful snowy day.

A deafening sound broke their staring contest, filling the all-too-quiet room with the sound of George Michael urging everyone to wake him up before he go-goes. Katniss felt her laugh starting in the back of her throat at the unexpected and completely awful ringtone coming from Peeta's phone, until she couldn't contain it anymore and exploded in giggles.

Yes, Katniss Everdeen could apparently giggle.

Running his hand through his hair, messing it up a bit more, Peeta pulled back before extracting the device from his cargo pants. He sighed, unlocking it.

"Yeah, Delly? Oh, hum, I don't know yet. I'll text you in five minutes, right? Yeah, see ya."

Delly. Katniss could easily picture the over-friendly woman dancing and jumping to Wham's music in shiny spandex outfits, laughing and not caring the slightest about being ridiculous.

"That was Delly," stated Peeta, fidgeting with his phone. "She wants to know if I will be eating with the gang tonight. You know, pre show thing and all?"

Katniss knew. They had the same habit at the ballet, gathering to eat together before warming up, makeup and costumes, and finally the big show.

"Oh, don't miss it on my account, I'll join you later at the show! I'll grab something from somewhere – or even better, you can take me home on the way to the Arena, and I'll cook something for me, then rest in bed."

If that wasn't an opportunity to be left alone and without an annoying, however cute, guardian angel, Katniss didn't know what it was. She could already smell the risotto she'd make and maybe she could queue Daredevil on Netflix instead of waiting backstage of a show she'd already seen, being in everybody’s way. She couldn't wait.

"Nonsense, I have to keep an eye on you until tomorrow morning. I was wondering if maybe you would like to come with me to The Gathering?" Of course he wouldn't leave her in the middle of the afternoon when he was on Katniss Duty. She guessed she'd just have to settle for plan A and escape discreetly from the Arena.

"The Gathering? That's what you call it?" Katniss looked at him, a smile on her lips.

"Well, someone came up with that name ages ago, and it just… fit, you know?" His phone buzzed with a text. "So, will you come? Delly's going to harass me until I have an answer."

Escape would be easier on a full belly. And why not? She could always eat.

"Sure, if it's no problem for anybody."

His smile grew wider and he hurried to type his answer on his phone.

"Great, we'll have to be there in an hour. That's a date." He rose from the couch and headed to his bedroom.

Wait, wait wait! Katniss's brain suddenly started screaming. He used the word "date". It was casual, right, just a word, this was not a date, and surely not a first date… wait! Where did the idea of a first date with Peeta Mellark come from? That must be the concussion. She had a concussion, right? And she was now in a parallel universe where she agreed to go on a date with her dance teacher.

Deep breaths, Katniss, deep breaths. It was casual.

She was 99.9% sure Peeta said it just in passing, that he didn’t mean it to be a date.

Right?

-

The comfortable sounds of banter, clicking forks and glasses, laughter echoed in the large room the crew was using as a dining hall. Dancers, technicians, musicians, makeup artists and basically all the show’s crew were gathered to eat together. Tuesday night wasn't the biggest show of the week, which allowed the crew to be less stressed than on a Saturday. On Saturdays everything had to be perfect, from the sound to the lights, to give the best possible performance for the audience. Saturdays always had that tiny bit of a special feel, a special thrill, special anything really, be it in ballet or in a dancing show like this one.

And, to Katniss's relief, this was definitely not a date. Or the concept of 'date' had changed a lot since Darius took her out the last time they tried to make things work. This night, it was the usual mix of people who've known each other for years, or months, keeping up with their lives, laughing, singing, trying to basically get rid of the stress that was creeping down their spines.

She was sitting between Peeta and a girl with short black hair named Johanna, who was the loudest person she’d ever met, and had nicknamed her "brainless" as soon as she had arrived. She started loudly telling Katniss that sometimes, in particularly hot dances, she could almost feel herself orgasm if the guy hiked his leg a bit too high, or their thighs came in contact a bit too often. She followed that by calmly stating that the tango was nothing more than the vertical expression of an horizontal desire, asking Katniss directly if she wanted them to share a tango, making the ballerina almost choke on her water.

Delly was the one to come to the rescue, telling Johanna to back off and let Katniss breathe, that no, Katniss would not be dancing on the stage with them, she was there with Peeta, and would be watching the show from backstage.

Then, once Johanna’s curiosity was finally satiated, Delly winked at Katniss and simply went on chatting with her neighbor.

"She's something, right?" Peeta whispered in her ear, startling her. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, and knew that should she choose to move her head, she would end up in the same position as on the couch, earlier that afternoon. She wasn't quite sure she wanted that proximity, and she wasn't sure he wanted it either. So she did what she did best, she escaped. Not from the table, or the Arena, but she avoided turning her head and having to deal with his piercing eyes right now.

"Who?" Katniss asked, taking a slice of bread from the plate in front of her.

"Johanna. She tries to scare everyone at first. But if you look deeper, she's a sweetheart who has suffered a lot in the past."

"Oh really? What happened?"

"It's not my story to tell – and I'm pretty sure she would cut me in two with an axe if I told you. She'll come around when the time is right."

Katniss nodded her understanding, not sure she wanted to continue the conversation, and was grateful when Delly started to gather her plate and cutlery, signaling to the table it was time to go down with the real business. The mood in the room changed instantly, from laughter and kidding to the pre-show seriousness, routines and rituals that took place in every showroom of the world.

"T minus 90 minutes," said Delly, her voice suddenly serious, over the rumble of the table being cleared, chairs being piled up in the back of the room, everybody helping until they dispersed into the corridors to reach their rooms, leaving Katniss and Peeta alone.

"So, Miss Everdeen, where do you want to stay during the pre-show? Down with us guys, or with the girls?"

"Or I could stay in the room, and take a nap until the show starts," she said, foreseeing her evil plan to leave the Arena unnoticed.

"And miss all the fun? Come on, I'll take you to the girls' lockers. Delly will be overjoyed."

"It's no bother if I stay in the audience..."

"We wouldn't want to leave you on your own and risk anything, like being kidnapped by Ramon the Security Guard, or Rose the ticket lady, right? Or worse, you escaping to go home and hide out of my care." He winked at her stunned face. "I told you, Katniss. Never play poker, you're an open book. Now, boys lockers or the girls?"

"Girls. No interest in the boys now that Finnick's gone." Because, obviously, a blow at the man's physique was the adult reaction to his statement. Obviously.

"You're right. Nothing good to look at now in there. Shall we?"

His unfailing kindness could be exhausting.

-

Whatever the activity, whatever the place, a girls' locker room was always the same. You always found different types of girls in it. The shy one, doing her best to avoid showing an inch of skin to the others, usually walking and holding the towel firmly in her hands; the not-shy-at-all-one, walking around completely naked, towel in hand, and making sure everybody took a good look at her body; the friendly one, walking around picking up the clothes that were discarded and giving them back – without any mistakes – to the people they belonged to; and there were people like Katniss, who didn't belong to any of these groups and tried her best to get out of Dodge as quickly as possible.

Johanna was clearly persona #2, walking around the small room full of makeup counters and racks of clothes, sashaying around Katniss seemingly on purpose to bring as much red as she could to the newcomer's cheeks. Delly was persona #3, picking stuff along the way to give them back to their owners, all the while managing to apply makeup and chat with Katniss. There didn't seem to be a persona #1 type, not like at the National.

It was surprising how well Katniss felt, in this tense atmosphere before a show. She could feel the tension building up, the sum of excitement and fear. Excitement at performing, and doing something they liked, enjoying themselves, and fear at forgetting some steps, or completely messing up a part of the show.

Katniss could hear the musicians warming up, the sound of the accordion in the back, muffled by walls and curtains, a soft melody playing out. Katniss recognized it as the song that was playing during Peeta and Finnick's dance a few weeks back. Glancing around, she saw Delly concentrating on putting her false eyelashes on, Johanna walking around, half-naked, her red dress hanging at the waist, leaving Katniss and her light ballerina tread to let her out the room. She followed the music, letting her ear trained with years of dancing to lead her towards the hypnotic sound.

She felt like she was enthralled by Kaa, just like Mowgli might have been in the Jungle Book, following the notes until she reached the very edge of the stage. She remained in the shadows, looking at Peeta on stage, practicing his dance, alone this time. He mimicked holding a partner, turning around, until he stopped completely, moving his hands to his curly hair. He was wearing a dark red shirt, something between maroon and burgundy but she couldn't tell which shade to save her life, and black slacks. She noticed his wrist was wrapped in a leather thingy-kind of bracelet, which hid the drawing underneath.

"It's not working, Alejandro. I need a partner to do this dance," Peeta spoke, walking towards the old man holding the accordion on his lap. His hair took different shades as he passed under the lights the technician was still setting up. "I can't do it on my own, it’s missing something."

"It does, pequeño, it does. You tried with everyone? Or you need to work on a new piece."

"Na, we don't have time to create something new at all. Jo's on holidays next week, and we have to fill her spot. And yeah, I tried with every guy here, and the choreography is too complex to learn in so little time."

"And with a girl? You tried?"

"It's a piece for two men?"

"And? Couldn't a woman fill it?" Antonio asked.

"I suppose, but it wouldn't be the same. This dance is an opposition, something like a fight. Not a love song."

"If you've never fought with a woman, you don't know what fighting is, pequeño".

Katniss covered her mouth with her hand, to hide the laugh she felt bubbling in her throat, only to stop her movement, the sound dying in the silence.

A flash of a memory came to her, the image of a man with grey eyes and black hair arguing with a blond woman, fire in their eyes, hands making a choreography of sorts, voices raised, before they fell into each other's arms, saying sweet nonsense into each other's ears, sharing touches promising of more. She felt the tears coming to her eyes at the sweet memory of a time when the problems didn't exist, when life was beautiful and she felt loved.

Now all that remained were memories of a time long gone. The features of her father's face were blurring with the passage of time, less defined than they used to be. Her mother's hair color was changing, and without a picture, Katniss wasn't sure she could tell which shade it used to be.

She was losing them to the time passing by, to the fading of the memories, to life going on without them.

Music startled her out of her thoughts, bringing her back to the here and now, to the accordion crying on the stage and the man trying to fight with his steps by himself, golden hair fighting gravity, eyes closed.

"I'll try with some of the dancers. Maybe with Delly?"

"She doesn't have the fire, hijo."

"I'm going to try, okay? And if not Delly, maybe Lucy or Liz."

The old man shook his head, carefully unfastening the straps holding his instrument before placing it on the stool he was sitting on, making his way towards the curtains at the corners of the scene, where Katniss was standing.

She started to retreat to the shadows, but a hand grabbed her arm.

"Don't leave, girl. Maybe you can help him."

"I'm not that kind of dancer." Katniss shrugged.

"I didn't know there were kinds of dancers. I thought there was only dancers. It's like musicians. The notes are the same for every kind of music. Once you know them, you can do whatever you want."

"It's not like that with dance."

"Isn't it?" Antonio smiled, releasing his grip on Katniss's arm before heading towards the backstage, leaving her alone. She looked at the stage, noticing it was now empty, only bathed in the lights from the spotlights above, bathing the scene in red, orange, and yellow colors dancing in front of her. It was really tempting to step onto the stage and just feel it. Feel how it would be under her feet. How the hardwood would react... Would it be firm under her soles, or pliable? Would it make a noise as she jumped, or would it just be silent, almost shy, not daring disturb the sound of the music?

Her feet were longing to move, to test that stage she'd never danced on.

But something prevented her from moving, something stronger than the desire to dance.

Something deep down, that she didn't want to acknowledge right now, that she didn't want to explore. She wasn't strong enough yet to face it.

This fear, anchored deep down inside her mind, her soul.

Fear of not being enough.

Fear of failing.


	14. Step 14 : Learning to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's time to move forward for Katniss... let's find out if she takes that step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written in the early months of 2016 - when France had to move on from very difficult events. This particular piece was extremely difficult to write.
> 
> My huge thanks to the Golden Quatuor @xerxia31, @dandelion-sunset and @titaniasfics for their patience, skills - and love for this story. Let’s not forget the amazingly talented @akai-echo for her aesthetics and banners.
> 
>  
> 
> A quote from Erin Handson was used - because I love it.
> 
> Without further blah blah …
> 
> Comments, reviews and messages are so appreciated - Do not hesitate, I don’t bite.
> 
> Usually.

"Five days and I'm off, bitches! Costa Rica is waiting for me!"

Johanna's brisk voice covered the applause coming from the group of dancers gathered backstage after the show. Standing at the back of the room, Katniss applauded along with the men and women all around, looking at their disheveled hair, sweaty faces, and otherwise tired features. Glancing from one to the other, she saw a flinch in Peeta's expression at Johanna's words, a cloud of worry on his usually bright face. She understood why, having been privy to the discussion between Antonio and the young man, understood the difficulty of having one member of the team gone on the other side of the hemisphere for a vacation, while your main dancer is off parading in sequins under the spotlights of a TV show.

Somehow, Katniss knew Peeta felt responsible for the upcoming shows, trying hard to fill the gap of Johanna's absence.

"Hey Katniss, I hope you are not too bored?" a soft hand landed on Katniss's shoulder, belonging to Delly, who was smiling at her, of course.

"I'm okay. A bit tired, but not bored. It's always interesting to see the other side of a show, how the machine works. It's so different from ours."

"Yeah, we're not as good as you all are." Delly seemed to sincerely believe what she just said, making Katniss eyes widen at the statement.

"Delly, no, not at all! You are as professional as we are, there's no denying it! And that's not what I'm saying… the atmosphere at the National is just, I don't know, quieter? Or more serious, I really don't know how to describe it. Here, there is music, laughter, where for us it's much more in silence and seriousness – not that what you guys do isn't serious! Oh god, I'm so bad with words."

"No, you're not. That’s very true, what you said, it's not the same mood at all." Peeta's voice came from her left, and for once she hadn't heard him coming – usually his heavier tread was as clear as the thunder and a definite hint he was walking around.

"It's getting late, do you want to go home?" Taking a look at him, Katniss finally saw the dark circles under his eyes, rememberinged that he spent the night with her at the hospital, and only took a short nap in the afternoon before rehearsing and dancing for more than two hours. He must have been exhausted.

"That's a good idea. I will catch a cab!"

Delly's giggles were the last thing Katniss expected. She thought Peeta would protest and tell her that no he wasn't about to let her take a taxi home, that he was signed to look after her for twenty-four hours and that she shouldn't be left alone. But she didn't want to embarrass him in front of the others, and make them think she was taking advantage of him.

So, no, Delly laughing was really not what she was prepared for.

"Oh, Katniss. You really don't know Peeta that well, if you think he'll let you go home in a cab or an Uber. It's engraved in him, he's the last of the gentleman you can find. He will drop you home, and won't take no for an answer. His dad taught him well. Look at him, he's blushing!"

He really was. A lovely red color had come to his cheeks, highlighting the freckles on display, as his right hand went to his hair, shyly raking through his curls.

"Dels!"

"Yes Peeta?" After blowing him a kiss, the blonde woman turned to Katniss. "It's the truth, really, Katniss! He's a gentleman from head to toe, sometimes I wish Thomas could learn a little from him."

As the blush on his face deepened, Peeta took off towards the dressing room, muttering something under his breath.

"Thomas?" asked Katniss, immediately regrettinged asking when Delly's face turned all dreamy.

"He's my fiancé! And he's known Peeta forever, they were neighbors when they were kids. Peeta introduced us, and the rest - as they say - is history. We're getting married next summer! I can't wait!"

A soft hand touched Katniss's elbow, firm and warm and somehow familiar. The smell came after, all cinnamon and vanilla, sweet and comforting, aromas she had started to associate with Peeta.

"You're ready to go, Katniss?"

"If you are. You can stay longer, if you want?"

"I'm kind of tired, so if you don't mind?"

"Oh." Of course he would be tired, she thought, shame making its way through her. He hadn't slept much last night, and the short nap he took wasn't enough to rebuild his energy. In addition to the dark circles under his eyes, his movements were slower than usual, his shoulders slumped, the coats he had previously gathered hanging over his arm. Yes, she was ready to leave.

"See you soon, Katniss!"

"See you, Delly."

The pair started walking side by side, putting on their coats along the way. The task proved more difficult for Katniss as she had to manage her purse in the process.

Of course Peeta opened the car door for her, and of course he waited until she was comfortable before starting to drive.

"I'm sorry I'm not good company tonight. I'm kind of tired," he said, pulling out of the parking lot of the Arena.

"Don't worry. I'm pretty tired too. You can drop me off at home."

He smirked, looking in the side mirrors before making a turn.

"Tskk, you'd think she had understood by now. You're under my watch, I'll release you when your twenty-four hours are done. And that's at 9:24 tomorrow morning," he said, checking the clock on the dashboard. "Well, not tomorrow morning, but rather later today." He yawned, his left hand covering his mouth. "Sorry, I'm kind of exhausted. You take my room and I'll take the couch."

"No way. I acquainted myself with the couch pretty well this afternoon. You go to sleep in your bed, rest, and we'll see each other in the morning."

"Katniss…"

"Don't ‘Katniss’ me, Peeta! You've been by my side since yesterday evening, when I not-fell on the ground. You can rest now, it's not likely I will have any problems!"

"You what? Not-fell? What does that even mean?"

She sighed. It was clear enough.

"It means I didn't fall. I'm a dancer, I have balance, and control over my body. Something must have made me trip, or whatever. I did not fall."

"I was right behind you, Katniss. And you fell."

"I did not."

"You did. I should have filmed you."

"I.did.not.fall."

"Why is it so bad that you fell? It happens to everybody."

"Not to me."

He stopped the car, parking on the side of the road. She stared through the windows, not acknowledging him.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what?"

"Why can't you just admit that you fell? The world won't stop if you do, Katniss."

"Maybe."

"I'm pretty sure it won't. Will you look at me?"

"No."

It was easier, not looking at him. Not having those baby blues pass through her, going straight to her soul.

"So? Are we going?" she asked.

She heard a noise, like a key clinking against something. But the engine never started.

"Katniss. Look at me."

"No."

She heard him sigh. He would start the car soon, and take her home, and she would be done with this evening.

"When I had my accident, I thought the worst thing was to not be able to dance anymore." His voice was like a whisper, barely audible. "But it wasn't. The worst thing was that my mom gave up on me. Finally. After years of mocking me, she finally told me what a useless brat I was, that now that I was disabled I would be the burden she had to carry on her shoulders forever."

Katniss felt tears falling from her eyes, at the thought a mother could say such awful words to her child.

"Don't feel sorry. She left a few months later, they divorced, and we're all better now. I'm better. I'm not afraid of falling down anymore because I know I'll get up stronger."

She felt a hand gently tucking her hair behind her left ear.

"There's nothing wrong with falling, Katniss. And you sure as hell are strong enough to pick yourself up after. Don't be afraid."

"What if I can't get up?"

"Then I'll help you."

"What if I fall?"

"Oh, my darling, but what if you fly?"

 

 

\--

 

It would be easy, really, believing Peeta's words. Believing that there were people who would help her, who would lend a hand, lift her up. But she knew better, experience had proven it. In the end, when shit happened – and it happened a lot in Katniss's life – you were on your own. Alone. And her vision of flying, as morbid as it was, was jumping from a roof to land several floors down. Not really that appealing, right?

So, no, she didn't believe his words, quieting the little voice that somehow made way into her brain, telling her that he would be there. That he really cared.

But the biggest part of her couldn't believe it, couldn't trust someone she barely knew – didn't it take her years to trust Madge or Gale? And they were living in the same little town, going to the same school. Life had been too hard on Katniss Everdeen for her to believe.

"It's a metaphor, you know?" came the soft baritone voice behind her.

"What?"

"You don't have to fly, or fall, not really. Even if in your case, last night, you did fall. You need to acknowledge that, Katniss. Stop being so intent on being perfect." She wanted to protest, to tell him to shut up, to stop reading her so easily, to stop breaking her walls down so readily, without even fighting. But she couldn't, the tears were now threatening to fall from her eyes, and she was trying very hard not to sob.

"Maybe you'll never be perfect, but all you can do is try, as hard as you can. But to reach the next step, you'll need to be able to acknowledge it when you don't succeed."

"Why?"

"Because then you’ll come back ten times stronger. And you’ll do it. Because that's what you do, Katniss. Every time."

"You don't know me."

"Objection, your honor. We’ve been working together for months now. Sure, I don’t know what’s your favorite color is, but I know a survivor when I see one. It's like we're part of a club or something. And you have that look. You won't give up. Ever. And it's alright to fail and not be the strong one sometimes."

Tears were running down now, falling in uninterrupted streaks from her cheeks to her jawline.

"I don't know how…" she whispered, to herself or to him, she couldn't even tell.

"I'll help you. Every step of the way,." Peeta replied. Katniss felt a hand sliding up and down her back, in soothing circles, just the way she used to do when Prim was younger and crying over a boyfriend or a scratched knee. She tried to resist reaching out for his embrace, but she was so tired. So tired of denying herself help, support and warmth. So tired of the lack of physical contact, of not being able to reach for someone, of being alone.

She caved, reaching for his arms, for the comfort, for the feelings taking over her.

She could swear she heard him speak sweet nonsense into her hair, soothing words that came like a calming wave after a storm, like the light breeze under the sun.

She didn't know how long she remained in his embrace, how long she cried.

She just knew how tired she felt when Peeta pulled his arms from her, reaching with his hand to brush the hair off her face, erasing the tears with his thumbs.

"Will you be okay?"

"I'm sorry," was all she said, looking down, not daring to look at him.

"Why?"

"I keep on crying today," she whispered, as low as possible.

"Maybe it's because you have a lot of tears to cry. Will you be okay?" he repeated, his thumbs making patterns on her cheeks.

"Yeah… I just need to sleep, you know?"

"Me too. Shall we go?"

"Yeah. And you can drop me at home, really."

"Katniss…."

"I know you are a gentleman and everything, but my place is close by. If you want to stay, I also happen to have a couch you can sleep on."

Peeta seemed to weigh their options for a few seconds, before nodding.

"Okay. Your place and I sleep on the couch."

"I'm not going to fight you on that, don't worry."

"Let's go."

The ride to Katniss' place was short, both tired by the last twenty-four hours. Without speaking, they made it to her apartment, where she grabbed a pillow and some blankets for him to sleep with, agreed when he asked whether he could leave the window slightly opened, and finally, she fell into her bed into a deep slumber, exhaustion taking over.

\--

 

The shrieking noise of her clock woke Katniss up, pulling her from a dream where she was literally flying, chasing after a golden thing that was almost within her grasp, but kept avoiding her each time she was a breath away from catching it.

She extended her arm to cut off the devilish device and hopefully grab a few more seconds of sleep, when she heard an unusual noise coming from the other side of the wall, signaling the presence of someone else in the apartment.

It took Katniss a few seconds to remember the man that had slept on her couch, the one that hadn't left her side since yesterday morning. Peeta, all kindness and blue eyes, who was certainly waiting for her to come out so that he would be able to leave.

Reluctantly, Katniss climbed out of her large bed, realizing she had slept in her clothes – that were now all wrinkled. She sighed, figuring that was a problem that could wait a bit more, and opened the bedroom door, ready to face Peeta and his desire to leave.

She didn't expect her kitchen to have been turned into Julia Child's; bacon grilling in a pan, orange juice in two glasses and coffee pouring. And French toasts suddenly jumping out of the toaster. Her mouth watered. And not at the sight of Peeta in an undershirt, towel over his shoulder, moving the pan over her stove.

"What's…"

She was speechless – which didn't happen often.

"Katniss! Hey! I hope you don't mind? I started breakfast! I figured you would be hungry, and well, you have a whole day of rehearsals today, right? So I, well, since I was awake I thought I would start cooking, you know? I didn't know what you like, so I went all in, I guess. Sorry?"

"Apple and bread.."

"What?"

"I said I usually eat a slice of bread and an apple on the way to the National. I'm not really a morning person."

"Oh. Oh,." Peeta said, looking around. "Well, I made bacon, there is toast and coffee? Will that do for today?"

"I suppose…"

Katniss didn't dare move, not really comprehending the scene that was taking place in front of her. A man making her breakfast – in her books, that only happened when she and said man had done other things at night than sleeping., right? It was their way ofto telling the women they wanted to see her again? But last night wasn't a date, right?

"Breathe, Katniss. It's just breakfast. I'm hungry, I'm sure you are, and you have rehearsals at the ballet today, so come sit down, drink, eat, then we'll go,." Peeta added.

"I need to take a shower first."

"Eat. Shower after. Priorities, Katniss Everdeen. Priorities."

But here he was in her kitchen, pouring coffee into her mug – the mug that…

"No!" she hissed, anger taking over.

"What?" Peeta looked at her, taking in her scowl and , angry face, defensive posture. "I'm sorry, Katniss, I really thought you would like waking up to a good breakfast, I had no intention of making you angry…"

"No, it's not that." Katniss started to take deep breaths, trying to apply what Dr. Aurelius taught her all those years ago. Breathe in for four seconds, hold your breath for seven, then exhale for eight seconds. This needed to stop. She needed to be able to put the past behind her, or she would never succeed in moving forward.

"Give me a second, please." She closed her eyes, forcing her breaths to even out, blocking the panic from taking over. It was bad enough that most of the time she woke up from nightmares – of losing her sister, of her dead parents, of how difficult life has been for her and her sister – or startled each time an unknown phone call came in. But to now turn into a complete freak in front of this kind man?

She tried to focus on the air coming in through her nose, trying to follow its way to her lungs, tried to maintain this connection to sanity, tried not to lose this battle for the umpteenth time, feeling her grasp on reality leaving her with each breath.

Until she felt now familiar arms encircling her, a large hand guiding her head into a strong shoulder, where she could breathe - breathe in his scent, still so comforting. She could get used to that. To the calm strength coming from this warm body, strength that fear and panic weren't a match for. Giving her the possibility of relaxing, of grounding herself in the present, regaining what was intimately her.

Time flew – or it didn't, Katniss couldn't say. 

Somehow her arms found their place around his back, anchoring her to him, too afraid to let go.

"The mug you took… it was my mother's. Nobody has touched it since she died… I was just surprised, kinda overwhelmed by too many feelings."

"I'm sorry Katniss, I didn't know…"

"No… you shouldn't be sorry – I mean, you made breakfast, you took care of me all day, you help me with my dancing, and here I am almost yelling at you because you took a damn mug!"

"It's not any mug, it was your mom's…"

"Exactly! It WAS my mom's mug. She won't use it anymore! She's dead. Not coming back, ever. I shouldn't care!"

"Of course you should care. You miss her. Are you okay now?"

Still buried in his white undershirt, she nodded.

"I need to shower – I won't be long… I'm sorry, Peeta."

"No need to. You have jam somewhere?"

"I don't think so. But help yourself – and don't feel like you have to wait for me, right?"

Peeta gave her a smile that Katniss was sure could lighten an entire room.

"I don't feel like I have to wait for you. I want to. I eat way too many breakfasts alone."

Katniss nodded and hurried to the bathroom, where the shower would wash away the remaining tears. She was tired of crying – it felt like she had been crying for twenty-four hours now.

Or maybe she hadn't realized before that she had so many tears to shed.

She came back to the kitchen all dressed up for a day of dance, her hair in its usual bun, wearing her green sweatpants, her bag ready and filled with everything she needed.

The first thing she noticed was that her mom's mug wasn't on the counter, replaced by the orange one she usually tucked in the back of her cupboard. Yep, it was still so orange, she realized, turning the cup in her hands.

"Oh, wow. I haven't seen this one in a while…"

"Yeah, it was in the very back of the cupboard. As if it was hidden, you know…"

"I wonder why, really. Who would like that shade of orange?"

"Me. That's my favorite color."

"Oh, god. I should really learn to shut up…"

Peeta laughed, taking the mug from her hands.

"No need to. It reminds me of a sunset, you know? When all shades of colors mingle together and change everything. Blue turns to a deep violet on the sea, while the sky takes on these reds, and pinks, yellows and oranges… it's so warming… I've always loved sunsets – they mean the end of the day…"

"Or the beginning of the night…"

Neither of them finished their thoughts, not daring to bring out in the open what they meant. That the nights meant nightmares to no end, barely allowing a full night of sleep here and there, or that the days used to mean escaping the hand of his mother, or some days, worse than a slap to the head. No, they weren't close enough to share that kind of knowledge about each other. Not yet.

"It's yours, take it. Really. I'll never use it . It's your favourite color." Katniss pointed at the mug, still in Peeta's hand.

"No, it's yours. Someone must have given it to you, right?"

"Yeah, my sister. It was part of an ensemble of several different colors. I guess it's the only one remaining…"

"More reason for you to keep it, really."

"No, you can have it, consider it my thank you for what you did for me – even though it doesn't even start to…"

"Shh--" He had put his finger on her lips, silencing her with shock. This was what Prim would have done, a few years ago when Katniss started to tease her with her first boyfriend – was he Donnie or Danny, she couldn't remember. Just a finger on her lips, to silence her. Memories came back rushing to Katniss, memories of a time when laughter came easily. "We'll make a deal. This is my mug, but you have custody of it. I'll drink from it when I come see you, but it stays here. We could even name it?"

"You want to name a mug?"

"Yup."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe. But in between, time goes by and we haven't eaten breakfast yet. When do you need to be at the Ballet?"

"We're Wednesday, right?" At his nod she went on. "Around nine. I have an hour with Mrs. Cynthia at eleven, then I should work on the Bolero and start on the Firebird too."

He seized the pan, and put the hot bacon on two plates, before handing one to Katniss.

"Okay. Let's eat, then I'll drop you at the Ballet. And don't bother to try to talk me out of it – I'm driving you there."

"You don't…"

"I know, Katniss, I don't have to. But I'm heading that way as I have to go to Dad's. It's not even a detour."

"You drive a hard bargain, you know."

"I know. But I'll bring cheese buns tomorrow, okay?"

"Deal."

"So. Coffee or Tea?"

"Wow, deep stuff, right?"

"I'm that kind of guy, yes."

"Coffee. Black."

"Of course."

Katniss was sipping her coffee when she realized Peeta was collecting the dishes from the counter, and putting them in the sink.

"I'll put them in the dishwater tonight, don't bother with them, Peeta. Really." Peeta turned to look at her, his right hand already on the tap. "Peeta Mellark, if you want another chance to use this monstrosity of a mug you won't do the dishes right now."

His smile widened even more than she thought possible, and Katniss wondered if it hurt him. Until she realized what her words implied.

She had invited him to come back.

-

"Bring your pointes, what does he mean by that? And I always have my pointes!" Katniss mumbled under her breath, shifting on the plastic seat of the subway.

"Humm?" a groan came out of the mouth of the old man sitting next to her.

She shuddered, realizing once more too late that she has spoken out loud, and this time to a complete stranger, on the subway. She really needed to work on being able to keep her thoughts to herself. But that didn't answer her question. Why would he specifically ask for her ballet shoes? He was a former ballet dancer and he shouldn't have forgotten that she always carried her pointes around. First rule of ballet was: never leave anything in your locker. How many dancers came back to find their pointes torn in two, or that they had simply disappeared… People in the dance community could be pretty mean to one another. But why bring her pointes to a rehearsal?

Katniss mused for a few more moments, elaborating scenarios involving herself, Peeta and pointe shoes, and came up with nothing realistic. There was no way that after so long without practice, Peeta could help her with her Firebird routine, or even the Bolero. Perhaps with some hand movement, but nothing more.

She kept thinking about it for as long as it took her to cross the street to reach the Arena. Coming through the back door, she acknowledged some of the dancers she had become familiar with, walking with confidence through the corridors to the now familiar Cherry room, only to find a note taped to the door with her name on it. Opening it, she stared at the line neatly written on the white paper, asking for her to meet him on the roof.

The roof? Why would she go there?

Shaking her head in dismissal, Katniss entered the Cherry room, to find it completely dark and empty. As the familiar buzzing of the lamps filled the room, she went to her usual place near the opposite wall, where she had taken the habit of dropping her bags and things, just to notice another paper folded in too with her name on it. Opening it, she saw this time two words. The Roof.

Grumbling under her breath, she left her belongings on the ground, heading out in search of a way to get to the roof of the Arena, promising harm to anyone who might be pranking her.

It took her a few turns and the help of a technician to find the stairs climbing up, until she reached a small platform, hiding a slightly ajar door on the left. A cold wind was seeping through the opening, making Katniss shiver under her coat. She reached for the doorknob, thinking someone would be on the other side trying to make her scream, and she readied herself.

Nothing happened. She stepped onto the roof, into the evening wind, feeling it against her cheeks, in the small hairs at the nape of her neck, goosebumps rising on her arms as the cold tried to seep through the warmth of her coat.

Katniss looked around, searching for someone, or something to confirm that this was just a prank. To allow her to go back down and start what she came here to do in the first place.

She cautiously turned around her, crossing her arms on her chest to avoid shivering, until she heard a noise, a sound, something that made her turn left and start walking.

A few feet away stood Peeta, completely still but for his blond hair blowing in the wind, his back turned to her, looking out over the edge of the roof, buildings spreading away in the cold night.

"Peeta! What are we doing here?" she asked, spotting a bag by his legs. Why did he ask her to come here? "It's freezing!"

"Not quite, Katniss. Good evening."

"Not really good… what are we doing here?"

"Letting go."

"Oh no, Peeta, please don't go all Elsa on me!"

He chuckled. "Don't worry. I hate that song. My niece made me watch the movie so many times I think I developed an allergy to snowmen." His face turned serious. "Katniss, I- um. Well. I really don't know how to say it, really."

It was as if Peeta, who was usually so comfortable talking, has been replaced by another version of himself - nervous, his hand passing through his hair, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Well I can't tell you. Can you at least tell me why I'm freezing my ass off in tights on the top of the Arena?"

"That's what’s hard to explain." He sighed, taking in the view of the city, the streets like ribbons of gold and red, the tall figures of the buildings, blending into the background, before he reached down to the paper bag on the ground, obviously looking for something inside.

"Here," he said, holding out a bunch of balloons.

"A balloon? We are going to blow up balloons? Really?"

"Not blow. But first we'll write."

"Are you kidding me? We're at a do-it-yourself amusement park?"

"No. We're here to help you let go."

"What?"

Peeta took a deep breath before foraging a bit deeper into the bag, taking out small papers, and two pens, along with more balloons.

"Okay. You remember I told you about my mother, and my accident, my therapy, right? I had to let go of things too. A lot of things. I carried that hurt in me for years, until I found a way to relieve me of all of it, until I freed myself."

"And that was with balloons?"

"No, I tried other things first, but they didn't work for me. This did, and that's what matters. I still need to do it, from time to time. That's also why I'm here. Not only for you, but for myself too."

Katniss didn't know what to think. She was torn between how brazen he was to come into her life and try to fix whatever he thought was needing fixing, and how kind he was to care that much about her. Or rather, about her dancing.

But letting go- she had been trying for such a long time now, trying to move on from her past, to embrace her present, from her sister, and mostly from herself. She knew the time to let go was long due, but she hadn't yet found the key to being free.

And she knew it. She had to do something, and if it didn't work, keep trying. Or risk being stuck where she was in her life, without a hope of advancing from the place she was now; alone, unhappy, sad. She knew she was at a crossroads.

Still thinking, she moved from her spot to reach the railing of the roof, trying to find what was holding Peeta's attention. She couldn't figure what was so enthralling to watch.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, taking in the cars down on the roads.

"What do you see, Katniss?" he answered, his eyes never leaving the scenery.

"Cars, and buildings, people passing by. A city."

She looked at him, and noticed the small smile on the right corner of his mouth, then looked again over the edge, at what her eyes could see. Nothing had changed, apart maybe from the crowd who had crossed the street, finally, right?

"What about you?"

"There's this river of gold and rubies that lightens the dark buildings, so much that it can reach some of the higher floors, so that the light shines much more."

"How do you see that?"

"I don't know…. It’s just like my mind switches modes, you know?"

He turned to face Katniss. "But now is not the time to talk about that. We're here, on this roof, for something else than slowly freezing to death. So, will you allow me to show you what these are for?" he asked, his hands still full of all the stuff he’d taken out of the bag.

Decision. Right now, she had to make one. Whether try whatever crap he thought could help her, or deny him and go on with her everyday life.

Decision. To make, all by herself.

"I'll allow it."

-

"This is crap, you know that, Peeta?"

"Oh ye of little Faith…. Don’t knock it until you've tried it, okay?"

"Yeah… So, what should I write on these papers?"

"The things, people that tie you down. Then you knot it on the thread and tie to the balloon, and we will let them go when you’re ready."

"We?"

"Maybe I still have things I want to let go of too…" Peeta said.

"You do? For real?" Katniss asked, almost shyly. “It’s not some kind of I don’t know…..”

"I wish I could say I’m done with my past.” Peeta cut her before she could go on. “But guess what? It takes time. But we have to start somewhere, I guess. “

He winked, grabbed a pen, and started to write something.

Katniss's papers were blank. All blank. She couldn't think of what to write, didn't know how or where to start. What did she want to let go of? What did she need to let go of? She tried to peek at what Peeta was doing, and was surprised to see that he was drawing something. It wasn't his accident as she might have guessed, but a beautiful woman, walking away in the rain.

"Wow, that's beautiful, Peeta. I didn't know you could draw so well!"

The young man blushed, before hiding most of his drawing with his hand, as if he were embarrassed by it.

"It's nothing, really. Did you write something?"

Katniss stared at the blank paper in her hands and shook her head. "I don't know what I should write, to be honest."

Peeta sighed, handing her his drawing.

"This is Sacha. Well, her name is Alexandra, but she preferred Sacha. We were together for three years. We're not anymore."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She's a good person, but we weren't meant to be together, that's all. I just think it's time to let her go, you know? To move on.” He turned, looking at the line of buildings for a second, before he started talking again. “Find your words, take all the time you need."

The wind had calmed down a bit, the chill now bearable, and Katniss watched Peeta tie his folded paper to the thin string hanging from a blue balloon. It was her turn to sigh, at her inability to figure out what to write down. What did she want- or rather need - to let go of? Furrowing her brow, she forced herself to relax, and tried to focus on what didn't feel right in her life.

She was lonely.

That was the first thing that came to her mind.

Lonely, not because of a lack of friends, but a lack of family. No more parents, her sister far away on another continent and apparently not ready to come back to her. Moving on with her own life, creating her own path, despite everything.

Whereas she, Katniss, couldn't seem to cut the ties linking her to her younger years.

Prim.

She wrote on a paper. She needed to let go of Prim who was now completely able to go forward in her life without her.

Guilt.

Was the second word she chose. It wasn't her fault her parents died, she couldn't blame herself for what life or fate had taken away anymore.

Fear.

There it was, in the open, written on a small piece of paper, brought up by word association. There it was, her biggest problem, in front of her.

And somehow, seeing it for the first time, on the roof of the Arena, made her conscious of it, like she finally – finally - realized what was holding her back. Fear. Of failing, of disappointing, of living a life she didn't deserve.

Of being happy.

She knew, deep down, that being happy meant to risk losing everything. That happiness was only a dream born in fairy tales and princess dresses whereas reality wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns.

Reality was starving stomachs in her younger years and bleeding feet after practices. Reality was avoiding child protective services, working two to three jobs to allow her sister to be a child a bit longer than she had been.

Reality was all she knew. She gave up her dreams of happiness so long ago.

She feared allowing happiness back in her life.

Maybe it was time to let these fears go? Katniss held on the little papers for a long time.

It was easy to live with what she knew, what had been her life so far.

Much more difficult to let go of things and start anew.

That’s what Peeta was asking her to do. Take a step forward. In the dark. With a blindfold on.

"Are you ready?"

The whisper almost made her jump. She hadn't heard Peeta coming. She took a deep breathe, handing him the three little pieces of paper, but he stopped her.

"Here, take this one. Unless you have a color preference?"

Peeta handed her a white balloon hanging by a thin cord. Katniss took it, quickly pulling the strings through the small hole on the card, knotting the cord before holding on to it.

"What do I do now?" She turned to ask Peeta, unsure of whether she should release the balloon now or later with the others.

"When you're ready, you let it go. Or let all of them go at the same time."

"Which do you prefer?"

"It's not my choice, Katniss. It's yours."

"No, I know... I mean... for your own? What do you do? One at a time, or all together?" she clarified, berating herself internally for her total lack of speaking skills.

"Oh!" Peeta smiled at her warmly, freeing her from her internal musings, before turning towards the edge of the roof.

"It depends, really. The first time I came here, I wrote so many things, I didn't know which one to throw first, you know? As if there should be an order, or a priority. I didn't want to send them all together, but couldn't find the first one. So I took them all home, and started sorting things out. Prioritize, you know? I came back a few days later and started over. Sent them one after the other, because letting go of everything at the same time was too much."

"Yeah, I think I get it."

Katniss walked to the edge of the roof, grabbed the railing in her left hand, holding tight to the string of the balloon with her right. She knew what was written on the paper. Prim. She had chosen to let go of the biggest thing in her life, the person she loved the most, the only person she was sure she had ever loved.

It was harder than she thought it would be at the beginning. She thought she would just have to open her hand and let go – it was a balloon after all, not some kind of delicate piece of porcelain. Truth be told, though, it was much more difficult than that. It was… letting go. Being able to do so. Acknowledging that Prim was an adult now, that she chose to live her own life, away from her sister. That she was strong enough to go study abroad, to bloom into the wonderful adult she was becoming. Because it meant Prim didn't need her anymore.

Katniss could feel the tears threatening to fall on her cheeks again, when Peeta wrapped his arm around her shoulder, rubbing her arm comfortingly.

"I know it's difficult. Don't worry if you can't do it now. There's always tomorrow, right? Or the day after."

Katniss suddenly realized this was the pattern she had chosen a long time ago. Postponing. Paying the bills, buying clothes, taking care of herself. Eating. She could do it a day after. It became her way to survive, to get through the difficult times, all the while building up her resolve and strength. Later on, she had always waited a bit too long before accepting something. A role. Her career. Later had become her word, the place where she lived. If she worked harder, she'll be able to pretend to better roles later. Later. Rather than now.

Because "now" was a hell lot more frightening than "later".

She felt it deep inside of her. If she wanted to move on, she had to let go of this damn balloon, of the past that was holding her back all the time. She had to open her hand. The only problem was, she didn't know how to do it.

Well, she knew, of course, that she had to open her fingers and release the string she was holding. However, something was stopping her.

"I can't do it…" she whispered to the night, her words almost lost, almost lost in the muffled sounds coming from the busy streets, but for the ears of the man standing next to her.

"Then you'll do it another time…" He told her, his voice loud in the silence of the sky.

"No… I want to. It's just hard to… Help me?"

He nodded just once, shiftng slightly to stand behind her, his right hand moving down her arm until it covered her hand. She was surprised by the warmth she felt coming from his hand -it was just freezing outside, how could someone hold so much warmth in a small part of his body ?

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low in her ear.

Katniss couldn’t speak anymore, her throat tied with emotions, thoughts rambling through her mind, bothering her with “what ifs” she didn’t want to hear anymore.

“Yes…”

“Together, then. On the count of three… One.” His fingers intertwined with hers, radiating warmth and confidence. “Two.” Her chest was so heavy with both the desire to be strong enough to open her hand, and the fear of not wanting to jump into this unknown path that might open in front of her. She tightened her hand on the rope. “Three. Just… let it go.”

Katniss felt her fingers being moved lightly by his, opening her hand just the slightest, not enough for the small rope to be let free, just enough to give her the possibility of doing it herself.

She took a deep breath, clearing her mind of everything else but the balloon in her fist.

She opened her hand.


	15. Step 14 : Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss finally started letting go - but now, does she need Peeta anymore ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the 4 Musketeers of fanfiction…. @xerxia31 @dandelion-sunset, @titaniasfics for their magic in betaing.
> 
> And to the awesome @akai-echo for her graphic talents.
> 
> I should say this chapter has mentions of suicide …
> 
> Here on AO3 // FFN
> 
> Thank you for your support, for every comment and review :) They truly make my days.

It went better with the second and third balloons. She could tell it would be a lot easier each time she let something go now - she had done the most difficult part. Letting go of Prim. She realized she didn’t feel bad about it - her sister was a brilliant young woman whose life was ahead of her, a life Katniss hoped would be filled with happiness. A happiness that was no longer her responsibility.

Just like she wasn’t responsible for her parents’ deaths. Her therapist had told her time and time again that neither were her fault, but her mind just didn’t agree. She knew she wasn’t the one who had tied a rope around her mother’s neck, or held tight until she was out of breath. But sometimes, she wondered… If she had been a bit more careful, a bit more daughter-ly, tried harder to rouse her mother from a never-ending haze, or if she had just called someone else for help.

Dr. Aurelius helped her see that every choice she had made was hers, and was the best she could have made at the moment, given the circumstances. Despite how good his advice was, even still, there were parts of her that were still full of guilt… until she finally, finally released that balloon. Of course, she was aware it was just the start of something more (she didn’t dare think of it as a new beginning, that was way too cliché), it was just a first step. But maybe the most difficult to take.

She followed in Peeta’s steps as they climbed back down the narrow stairs, her mood rising with the temperature of the building. He was leading her through the maze of corridors to their usual rehearsal room when his phone started ringing.

“Sorry, I thought I put it on vibrate,” he said, taking a quick look at the screen. “It’s Finn!! Do you mind if….”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll just thaw and warm up while you talk to your boyfriend.”

“I’ll make sure to pass him your love!” Peeta laughed

Katniss nodded, focusing on her horrible golden shoes that she never replaced, despite her numerous threats to, clipping the buckle at her ankle. It was just the same as with her pointe shoes, they needed a little bit of breaking before she felt comfortable in them. Now, she knew her feet had found their place inside, the sensation not so new anymore. She lifted her head to see Peeta completely engrossed in his phone call with Finnick, and made her way towards the large mirrors lining the wall. She started her routine of warming up, taking the time to stretch her muscles until she was ready.

A laugh made her spin on her shoes, to see her friend laughing on the phone. Friend? she thought, is it what we are, friends? Katniss didn’t know how to label her relationship with Peeta, really. What were they? Just two random people sharing a dance floor once in awhile ? Maybe actually the word friends was the closest to what they were, to describe their relationship.

Peeta was still on the phone, exchanging details of new routines he was choreographing with Finnick. Who were they for, she didn’t have a clue, but she figured it wasn’t for her as they seemed to be talking about salsa moves or whatever. She grabbed her phone and put her earbuds on, trusting her playlist to come up with something she’d like to dance to.

The rhythm of the drums surprised her, she clicked to pause the music. Of course it would be the bolero, here and now. She had a simple choice, though. Change the track and move to the next one to finish warming up, or start on the dance she had been rehearsing for a few weeks now.

Katniss took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and restarted the music. She wouldn’t be able to stand on her toes without her pointe shoes, but maybe she could do her routine for a few measures before going into the world of tango, salsa, or whatever was in Peeta’s mind today.

She clicked on the music, letting the drums take over her body. Her movement would start with the flute, as soon as a complete cycle of the percussion was done. She had time, and no one to judge her today. No one would be correcting her moves, her hands, her foot placement. She felt lighter, just like she had a few minutes earlier when she let Prim’s balloon go. She started remembering herself as a little girl, the first time she came out of her ballet class. Her muscles hurt so much from being used in different and unusual ways, but she felt like she could just walk on clouds. Her smile was so wide, her heart beating so fast in her chest, and yet she hadn’t been able to explain to her daddy how happy she was. How alive she felt, how magical it was to see her hands gracefully above her head, or see her little body arching on her outstretched leg. She just knew she wanted to do it forever.

Now that little girl had grown up, losing her way in life for awhile, but the thought of little Katniss in her tights and her tutu brought a smile to her lips.

She didn’t realize that she had started her routine, her dance, the bolero. Her body reacted to the music, the moves coming naturally. The long skirt she was wearing danced around her legs, her hair, loose around her shoulders, flew around, free for once from their restraints.

Katniss realized she was dancing, really dancing, letting the music be her guide, letting her body feel the rhythm, letting herself go without thinking.

Thirteen minutes passed, or maybe it was just a few seconds. She couldn’t know. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t care. Nobody would be there to tell her what she did wrong.

She took her earbuds out, catching her breath as her heart raced, her thoughts still on the dance, in the memories of the little ballerina she had once been, her body and mind relaxed.

“You did it, Katniss….”

The voice startled her, sweet in her ears. She knew where it was coming from, but hell if she wasn’t surprised. She honestly hadn’t thought he had seen her, watched her dancing, lost as he was in his phone call.

“Yeah, I know the choreo by now. Not as easy without the pointes, you know?” She didn’t turn to him, walking instead towards her bag to retrieve her bottle of water, put her phone away and get ready for whatever Peeta had in mind for the day.

She heard him coming from the other end of the room, even though he said nothing at all. He stopped close to her, just r behind her if she was to guess. Then his hand came to rest on her left shoulder.

He was so close Katniss could smell his familiar scent, comforting as always. His hand was light on her shoulder, not moving, his heat warming her through her thin top.

“No. You danced. Really danced. YOU danced. And it was beautiful.”

Katniss swore she stopped breathing at hearing those words coming out of Peeta’s mouth, in a bare whisper. He inched forward, slowly, giving her time to move aside. Giving her the choice of whether to be that close to him or not, her back pressing against his chest. She honestly didn’t care right now, relishing herself in his warmth and embrace.

“Look.”. Katniss felt his hand leave her shoulder, trailing down her back while he showed her his phone.

“You filmed me?”

“I wanted to show you… It was the Bolero?”

She nodded, because of course he couldn’t know what music had been playing in her ears, but he guessed nonetheless.

“Yeah, I wanted to give it a go. The show is coming quickly, and I need to rehearse more…”

“Nonsense. Technique has never been your problem. Now, look at yourself dancing, really dancing.”

He brought the phone in front of her eyes, hitting the play arrow. He had started filming in the middle of the dance, with her hands extended above her head, fingers relaxed but still in position, her skirt swirling around her legs. The only sound she could hear besides the clapping of her shoes on the hardwood floor was Peeta’s breath as he recorded her dancing. Soon, it was replaced by encouraging words she couldn’t have heard. What stunned Katniss, though, was herself. She was so lost in the dance she hadn’t realized she danced the whole Bolero.

She didn’t notice it at once, too focused on the position of her hands, of her feet in the golden shoes to see it.

The freedom. The way her body loosened to the music, as if she had no cares in the world, no problems, as if dancing was the oxygen she needed to live, as if music was the blood pumping through her veins, as if she was the dance. Katniss had never seen herself dancing like that. Movements came one after the other, smoothly, like a routine performed from years and years of training, as if they were organic, made to be done this way.

“What were you thinking when you were dancing?” Peeta’s quiet voice broke her watching.

“I was a little girl, going to my first ballet lesson…” she answered, smiling at the thought. “My mother wanted to put my hair in a bun, but I insisted on keeping my two braids…. Of course, after the first few lessons I ended up having a bun like all the others, but the dance teacher never told me a thing about my braids… and after, I was so happy, I told my dad I wanted to dance forever ….” Katniss felt the pangs of melancholy starting to creep up her body, only this time she chose not to allow them to go further. She filled her mind with thoughts of herself when she was younger, twirling and laughing while wearing her very first tutu (a Christmas gift from Santa), of herself as a shaky teenager auditioning to get into the prestigious Capitol Academy, and her joy at the results.

She needed to be able to remember her family without always breaking down, without bad memories constantly emerging, without letting sadness take over each and every time.

“Katniss? Are you okay?”

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to you but you weren’t here… I mean, physically you were here because obviously you haven’t moved…”

“Oh, yes, sorry, I … I zoned out. I was… was blocking my dad…”

Katniss’s hand went to her mouth, realizing her words made no sense at all to anyone else but herself.

“I’m such a klutz with words! What I meant was ….”

“You blocked your dad from bringing the sadness back… You were whispering while your mind was elsewhere. Don’t worry, okay?” Peeta said, looking at the phone, still clutched in his hand, the last image of the Bolero fixed on the screen. His eyes met Katniss’s as he asked, holding his phone up to her. “Would you like me to send you the video?”

“Oh. yes, sure, here I’ll enter my email address.” She grabbed his extended phone and began typing immediately. “But let me warn you - no junk mail or anything okay?”

“Aww, you mean I can’t send you beautiful PowerPoints of kittens?”

“Especially the kittens. None of them, please!”

“You have a bad relationship with animals? But you have a cat ?”

“I have a bad relationship with that cat, period. Extended to all the species. So no kittens, all right?”

“Or else what? You’ll delete my email?” He winked. “Or worse, you’ll pierce my heart with an arrow?”

“Maybe. I still have my bow from the archery club…”

“And you think you are Cupid? Always aiming through the heart?”

She smiled. “I always shot through the eyes. Even the squirrels.”

“Who would have thought the firebird was a hunter?”

“Who would have thought the Baker Boy was so sassy?”

Peeta burst out in laughter.

“For someone who is, and I quote, ‘a klutz with words’ you know your way around them pretty well!”

“Oh, please, you’re the one with the gifted tongue!”

“Yeah, I’ve never had any complaints about it.”

“Oh god, Peeta!”

“You started it, Girl on Fire!”

“Girl on fire? Where did that one come from?”

“Well, you’re obviously not a man, and you’ll be the firebird. So Fire on one hand, Girl on the other. hence, Girl on Fire.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. That’s what Finn is calling you anyway.”

“I’m going to kill him!” Katniss mumbled.

“I know. But for now, vote against him when the show starts. That will suffice.”

“He’s really in, then?”

“Yup. And if you dance well, I might tell you with which celebrity. An exclusive spoiler if you want?” Peeta started to move away from Katniss, heading for the corner of the room to drop his phone in his huge bag, before spinning on his heels to face Katniss.

“Any preference for today?” he asked casually. “As you’ve made so much progress, you get to choose the music.”

Katniss halted her own movement. She had been checking her phone, looking to see if the video Peeta sent had come in. But the way he said the last phrase, the tone in his voice, his stiff way of standing when she looked at him made her understand what he wasn’t saying. This was goodbye.

He cleared his throat, looking away.

“Well, seeing as you understand what you need to do now, I guess you won’t need me anymore…”

“You don’t want to dance with me anymore?” Katniss heard herself whisper, a strange feeling in her stomach climbing up her chest.

Once more, she had spoken her mind instead of keeping her thoughts to herself. Peeta’s eyes dropped to look at his shoes, his right hand passing through his hair, messing it a little bit more, a sign she had learned to recognize as him being uncertain of himself.

“It’s not that… You’ve learned all I could teach you. The rest is up to you… so well, I…” He seemed to be looking at something on the floor, maybe a notch in the wood, Katniss couldn’t tell. The usually well-spoken Peeta had turned into a shy boy, fighting to find his words, the right words to express his mind. He took a deep breath, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers, blue straight into gray.

“Katniss, I’ll always want to dance with you. You can come here whenever you want, how many times you want. Hell, you could even dance in the company if you wanted to!” He took another breath before going on. “I just thought that now that you understand what you need to do to dance, you wouldn’t want to waste your time here, and would go on practising more for the ballet, you know?”

“You’d want me to dance in the company?” Katniss asked, amazed. She never thought about dancing to anything other than ballet, all her years of training, bleeding feet leading to that one goal - have the lead role in a ballet, expressing herself on the stage with all she had.

“I want you to do whatever you want to do. You have something when you move, a grace, how you use it is up to you. As long as you go on dancing….”

Words were intertwining in her head, too many words, dancing altogether, forming sentences she didn’t want to hear right then. She chose not to listen to them, using her preferred means of communication - action. She quickly clicked on her phone’s music app, searching through her library, until her fingers hit the song she had been looking for, before walking to the sound system, where she plugged her phone onto the deck.

Katniss then took off her sweater, knowing there were a few seconds of silence before the music kicked in, and walked towards Peeta, who hadn’t moved from his spot in the room, his eyes following her every move. She felt the nerves starting to creep up her belly again, as she watched Peeta staring at her with questions in his eyes. She gave him a little smile, trying to muster as much confidence as she could, trying not to reach for her hair and braid it to calm her nerves.

Peeta’s eyes lifted to hers as he heard the first chords of the guitar echoing in the room. She could see in his eyes he recognized the song, the lament of people separated, the saudade, the first song they danced to together, ages ago, or was it only three months? Katniss didn’t remember. She just stood in front of her friend, waiting for him to start the dance, feeling a bit nervous at her choice of music, as she suddenly realized he could think this was goodbye. She slowly grabbed his left hand, hanging limply at his side, intertwining her fingers with his, as always amazed by the warmth he was radiating. The simple contact seemed to bring him back to life, for he immediately gripped her hand, stepping closer to hold her, in their usual dancing position. Only this time, Katniss felt herself much closer to her partner than what she was used to, as if he was holding onto her, afraid of letting her go.

The singer’s lament broke the trance they were in as Katniss felt Peeta starting to dance, his steps slow, slower than she was used to, although she could feel his hips swaying more than usual, pressed as they were against her pelvis, she couldn’t help but follow his lead, feeling her own middle moving exaggeratedly to the music. She felt his hand on her back, lower than usual, just in the small of her back, burning through her dance top. As he started to move forward, Katniss let herself melt against his body, letting his large hands draw her closer, letting him lead her through the dance.

Maybe it was the music, Evora’s longing for a love she would never see again. Maybe it was the warm body pressed against hers. Maybe it was the silence surrounding the song. Maybe it was something else, Katniss couldn’t tell, but she was was feeling so feminine right now, so radiant, as if she were the most important person in the world.

And maybe she was, she thought. They didn’t spin nor make any complicated moves, they just danced, Peeta’s cheek against her hair, her head finding its place on his shoulder, naturally, as the music carried their feet over the ground.

The song stopped, or maybe it hadn’t, Katniss couldn’t tell right now, and didn’t care. She still swayed, in the cocoon of Peeta’s warm arms, her head on his shoulder, her ear listening to the regular beat of his heart, waiting for him to let go of her hand. She felt him move his head slightly, until she could feel the whispers of his breath on the tender flesh of her ear, sending shivers through her body.

“Thank you for the dance…” Katniss could barely hear his voice in the resounding silence of the room. She could hear the sadness, the raw feelings in his words. But she was the one who needed to thank him for everything. For showing her she could still fly, that she could still be her, and aim higher, but most of all, for setting her free.

Words could be hard to form for Katniss. Talking and being eloquent had never been her strong points, she was much more an action kind of person. Only this time, her actions had led to the opposite of she was aiming for. She knew she just needed to tell him this wasn’t their last dance, that she’d gladly come back for more on her free time, that she had fun dancing with him, laughing with him, talking with him…

She could form no words, force no sound from her parched lips. She felt Peeta moving backwards, slowly releasing her back and her hands, taking with him his warmth, his presence, his scent. She could see his eyes, half-closed as if savoring the moment, the dance, taking in every bit of it, as if trying to remember everything, as if it was the last time.

Katniss was at a loss for thoughts, for words, for everything. Too many emotions were colliding inside of her, too many feelings that she wasn’t used to dealing with, that she didn’t know how to handle.

A soft knock on the door, followed by the ever-smiling face of Delly broke the moment between the dancers, tearing them apart quickly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Peeta. Rehearsal starts in ten you know?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks Del.”

“Anytime, Peet.” The bubbly young woman was gone in a minute, all the time Katniss needed to put her sweater on, grab her phone, coat and sports bag and head for the door, stopping only at the knob. She couldn’t leave like that, without a thanks or a goodbye, even if it was the last time - But was it? Even if she wanted to come back - But did she? She looked at the man staring at her from the middle of the studio, his blue eyes shimmering like the precious gem he was, his arms limp at his sides, as if all his energy had flown when she left his embrace.

It happened as if in a dream. She felt her hand leave the doorknob, her feet taking her to Peeta, her lips merely touching his cheek as her mouth sounded her muffled “thank you,” before she fled through the door, pretending her face wasn’t hot. As she found her way out of the Arena.

\--

“I ran away.”

“You did what? Don’t tell me that you did what I think I heard you say you did, Katniss!”

“I ran away! What would you have wanted me to do, exactly? Stay here and wait for him to tell me goodbye, adios, hasta la vista?”

“Or maybe he would have asked you when you were coming back?”

“Come on, Prim! I don’t even know if we’re friends! And HE told me he didn’t have anything more to teach me, if that’s not a dismissal, I’m a nun!”

“You’re a nun anyway, Katniss! When was the last time you had fun, really?”

“At the club, the other day!”

Through the screen, Katniss could see the surprise etched on her sister’s face - and felt proud to have been able to put it there.

“Katniss Everdeen you went clubbing? Why am I finding that out only today? Where was that? Who were you with? What were you wearing? Don’t answer right now, I’m going to grab popcorn.”Prim ushered out of the laptop screen to get into another room - the kitchen if Katniss was to guess - leaving her with a bit of time to think.

Of course Prim would ask. Of course she would want to know everything about the evening Katniss had spent out and that she consciously forgot to mention. Katniss didn’t want to worry Prim about her fall and time spent in the ER. And maybe not about the time Peeta spent with her after. No, she had definitely not told Prim about that.

Katniss could see her sister has already returned from wherever she went, as she grabbed the laptop in front of her.

“Now, sister of mine, do tell me about that clubbing night. Important questions first. Who, where, what?”

Katniss sighed at her sister’s perseverance, but also at her well-known lack of poker face.

“With the people from the Arena, a long red dress, and a Cuban bar downtown. Are you happy?”

“Who from the Arena? And nobody from the ballet?”

“Yeah, Martyna - the pianist, you remember her?” Prim nodded once, her mouth stuffed with the handful of popcorn she just put in. “And Cinna, the costume designer?” Another nod. “Anyways it was all because of Finnick being cast into DWTS….”

“NO WAY! You know someone who will be in Dancing With The Stars?”

The reality show had been Primrose’s guilty pleasure since the first time she had laid eyes on it at the tender age of twelve. Maybe it was the sequins, the fairytale like dresses, the music, Katniss didn’t know, but from this point on, there hasn’t been a season of the show her sister hasn’t watched. Being abroad, she asked Katniss to record the show and send her the DVDs so she wouldn’t miss an episode .

“Who is this Finn guy? Is he a good dancer? Is he cute?”

“It’s Finnick, Finnick Odair. He was world champion in Latin dance or something.” On the screen, Katniss could see her sister grabbing her phone, typing rapidly on it, excitation all over her face, until Prim lifted her gaze again to her sister on the screen.

“Oh, God, Kat! You know that Apollo? Have you seen him shirtless?”

“Yup.”

“Katniss Everdeen!”

“He was dancing shirtless!”

“He’s yummy.”

“He’s okay, I guess.” Almost. She almost said it. That she far preferred Peeta’s fair skin and imperfections to the statuesque Finnick.

“You guess! Have you lost your eyesight, Kat?” The sound of an alarm stopped Prim’s rant about Finnick’s abs.

“I have to go, I have a class in half an hour.”

“Okay.” Katniss started to reluctantly close the laptop screen, readying herself to tell her sister goodbye.

“Kat. You have to go back to the Arena. To talk to Peeta, okay?”

A sigh escaped Katniss at her sister’s perseverance.

“Why would I do that?”

“You realize it’s the first time we skyped that you talked about things that happened to you? Whatever he did to you, whatever it is that you don’t want to tell me about was good to you. So you go back there and at least tell him thank you.” Prim started to rise from the couch before changing her mind and settling down. “Katniss, I’m serious. You’re going to go back there.”

“Or what?” Her sister being an ocean away, she couldn’t harm her in any way. Or so she thought.

“I still have THE video, Katniss.”

Scratch that. Even an ocean away, Prim was still deadly.

 

\--

The route to the Arena was now familiar enough that Katniss didn’t have to check the stations every two minutes. She didn’t know if her impulse was really such a good idea. After her talk with Prim two days ago, she had spent an indecent amount of time at the National, rehearsing for her upcoming ballets. The Bolero in a few days, on Saturday. And the Firebird, in three weeks.

Each time she danced to the music of Ravel, she had put herself in the same mindset as she had been in with Peeta - thinking of the little girl she had been, happy and free, growing up lucky enough to be able to live her dream to become a ballerina. And to her surprise, it had made a difference in her dancing. She felt freer, able to express herself through her movements, now that she had a story to tell.

She saw the appreciation in the other’s eyes and behaviour. Haymitch’s slight nods and raised thumbs, whispering, “Congratulations, Sweetheart!” Thresh’s excitement after one particular rehearsal, Effie’s comments that it would be a “big, big, event.” Even the little smile on Plutarch’s mouth. The day before, they had a final fitting for the costumes, and for once, Katniss was happy the ballet wasn’t a traditional one. No tutu, no tiara, just a long, loose dress barely brushing the floor, but smartly opened for her legs to be able to move freely, made of soft bright red fabric, on which black flames were interwoven, to match Thresh’s outfit, black with red embroidery.

But tonight, she was going to talk to Peeta. She had made up her mind after her talk with her sister, that indeed, she needed to thank him first, before asking him, if she dared, if she could come back for more. She couldn’t understand the ball forming in her belly each time she thought of not dancing with Peeta anymore. She should have talked to him before leaving, told him she wanted to come back, just for fun, just to dance. She didn’t know if he would allow it, if he would allow her to dance with him again.

So she decided to come and watch the show, another time, with a more informed eye, this time. And get a chance to talk to her… friend? She didn’t even know how to label her relationship with the young man. Partners? Friends? So many questions, so few answers.

It was strange going into the Arena through the main entrance, with all the spectators, rather than through the artists’ entrance, at the back, as she usually did. Nobody greeted her this time, in the middle of the crowd. Her ticket secured in her hand, she walked the red carpet of the theater towards her seat, located in the middle of the third row - sufficiently hidden from the stage, but close enough to watch everything.

She wanted to enjoy the show completely, with her new knowledge of the latin dances Peeta taught her over their lessons, during their shared moments together. He had told Katniss about the music, where it came from, the rhythm, the feeling of freedom released by the brass instruments echoing in the starry Havana night. He had taught her the proper way to sway her hips to the beat, without being too obvious, just to accompany the music.

Memories of the time spent in the rooms under the stage with Peeta brought a smile to her lips. They had laughed too, often. At her clumsiness with the steps, at the memories of the Ballet he shared - Haymitch and Effie being the first targets of their laughs.

A hell of a good time this has been. With him.

The music started, the same electronic beats of Ricky Martin’s song opening the show, the crowd clapping enthusiastically to the rhythm until the low plea of the accordion chimed in, focusing the attention on the player, and the dancers appearing on the stage.

It was the first time since coming with Madge that Katniss watched the whole show, happy to recognize the people she had met while dancing here. Delly, fierce as the tango dancer. Johanna, her slender body exhaling strength and fury. All the others dancing their way onto the stage. She quickly discovered that someone was missing. No sign of a familiar sturdy blond man on stage, and as time passed Katniss started to worry. Why wasn’t Peeta on stage? She looked more closely, trying to get a glimpse of the wings of the stage, to see if he was there, but no one showed. What happened? Maybe it was his day off, she started reasoning, trying not to dig into her purse to grab her phone and shoot him a quick message. Because there was nothing to be worried about, right? She wasn’t even sure they were friends, she didn’t know how to label their relationship, or if they even had a relationship to start with.

The show couldn’t be over soon enough, as Katniss wanted to go backstage to congratulate the performers - but mostly to find out about Peeta. Her friend, she had decided. They were friends.

Friends is something, right? Something good? She applauded with all the spectators, standing up with the rest of the crowd as the dancers saluted, trying to plan out how to be able to go downstairs when something caught her eyes. Delly was staring at her, clearly waiting for Katniss to acknowledge her, waving her fingers at her. Nodding her head, Katniss waited until the curtains closed and the crowd started to leave before heading towards the stairs on the edge of the scene.

When she was almost the only person left in the theater, she started walking towards the stairs on the sides of the stage, noting the guard was stepping away a little to let her pass. She nodded before climbing quickly, feeling the stage under her feet. There it was, the little chill she felt each time she was on a scene, the little shiver of excitement before performing, before diving into a performance. She couldn’t wait to feel it again, on Saturday evening, on the beautiful stage of the National Ballet.

In a rush of hair and red dress, Delly was suddenly hugging her as if her life depended on it.

“Katniss! You should have told us you would be here tonight! We would have reserved one of our seats! But you’ve already seen the show, right? So you came back! That’s all kinds of awesome! Come!”

Not even waiting for Katniss’s answer, Delly grabbed her arm, gently dragging her through the maze of corridors that was the Arena.

“So, what did you think of the show this time? You have a better understanding of latin dances now, right?” Delly stopped suddenly, turning to look back at Katniss. “I'm so glad you came, you know! Peeta’s going to be bummed when he learns you were here!”

“Yeah, I noticed he wasn’t on stage?”

“He had tons of holidays to take, so he took a week off. I thought you knew, and that’s why we hadn’t seen you this week.”

“No, I didn’t know… Do you know where he is?” Katniss asked.

“No clue. He said he would be back next Tuesday, so I guess you could come then.”

“Oh.”

“And really, Katniss, next time you want to see the show, tell us, we have free seats for our guests!”

“Well, I kind of decided at the last minute…”

“We’re hitting Guanabara again on Saturday night, if you want to come?”

“No, I can’t, I have a show on Saturday. But thank you, Delly.”

“Oh, you’re performing? What? Where?”

“Nothing big… Maybe I’ll drop by after, if I’m not too tired, okay. Now I’m sorry, but I have to go… early morning call tomorrow, you know?” Katniss started to move away towards what she knew was the backdoor.

Delly nodded. “I’ll tell Peeta you came by!”

Katniss froze. “No, don’t bother. He won’t care.”

Katniss saw Delly’s smile becoming gentle, so gentle.

“You have no idea, do you? The effect you have on people. I’ll tell Peeta. He will care.”

Sometimes, it was better to run away rather than to face her thoughts.

So Katniss ran.


	16. Step 16 : Sway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Bolero time.  
> How will it go for Katniss?  
> Will she go see Peeta back ?  
> So many questions... Find the answers below :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My biggest thanks to @xerxia31 and @dandelion-sunset for their beta skills. They push me, challenge me every day to make this story better. thank you, ladies :)
> 
> And to the incredible @akai-echo, sometimes, I swear you're reading my mind when it comes to creating the aesthetics - thank you so very much :)
> 
> Reviews and comments make my Tuesday mornings bearable :)
> 
> Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts with me :)

You’d think it would be easy after all these years. That the fear would disappear, leaving confidence and trust in its place. It never did. It was always like the first time. Katniss remembered being on stage, for her first gala at the dance school, when she was a rose in the Queen of Heart’s garden after barely a few months of ballet classes. Ever since that day, she could feel the tendrils of fear climbing up from her belly before every performance.

Of course, with time, she had perfected her pre-show routine. Hairdresser, makeup, costumes, warm up, until that stressful last moment of wearing the pointes, stuffed with cotton wool, to ease the pain the shoes gave every dancer, just before the show.

Of course, with time, she had gained confidence in her abilities. She could dance the most traditional ballets, as well as contemporary pieces with the rest of the ballet, to all kinds of music. But there was still, deep down, the fear of messing things up. Forgetting a step or an arabesque, or being a little too late, or not precise enough.

Of course, with practice, she could do the choreography with her eyes closed, relying on muscle memory and the beat of the music. Do the performance, keep the rhythm, the synchronicity with Thresh in front of her.

Only today, she wanted to do more. She wanted to feel the music, be the notes of the score, feel every change of key of instrument. She wanted to dance - and to enjoy it. She didn’t know if she would be able to do it again, to be the little girl in her dance tights and demi-pointes spinning around in the family’s living-room.

“Are you ready, Katniss? It’s almost time.” One of the technicians, she couldn’t remember her name but it was something along the lines of Venecia or Vulnia, always the same one coming to her.

Katniss left her corner of the backstage, stuffing the extra cotton wool in her bag before giving it to Vulnia (she had decided on the latter), who always put it near her locker in the dancer’s room. It was almost time time to find her partner, to share those last minutes before the curtain together before facing the audience in the crowded theater.

Thresh was easy to spot, as usual, a calm mountain in a sea of ants moving everywhere, fixing every single detail of the curtains, of the sets, lights and sounds. He was standing on the other side of the backstage, eyes closed, face relaxed, his head moving from left to right, warming his neck muscles. She realized how fitting his costume was - the black of the tights and of the shirt he was wearing, with just a few highlights of red here and there, a perfect contrast to her own gown, all red with black beads interwoven into the fabric.

His costume complimented his dark skin, hers enhanced her olive tone.

Katniss realized he was the embers to her fire, she was the flames to his warmth. They complimented each other.

Suddenly, the stage cleared. Where before people were still fixing a part of the curtain or clearing the scene, moving around in a seemingly orchestrated dance, there was now nothing to look at but her partner. And nothing to do but wait.

Wait for the applause that announced the arrival of the conductor.

Wait for the four little taps of the conductor’s baton.

Wait for the silence before the instruments started singing.

Wait for the longest silence before the curtain opened, revealing an empty stage.

Until the drums started their litany.

Facing one another, the dancers walked onto the stage to the sound of the music, starting their choreography with practiced steps, completely in sync, focused on one another.

The flute started her song, slowly, and Katniss felt something inside of her belly, something blooming in her entire body, taking over. She was back to her childhood again, dancing and spinning in the first tutu her parents got her, all flushed as she was laughing, laughing. She could even remember Prim giggling and clapping her hands at her, she could remember the joy invading her body, could remember that time had ceased to exist as she danced and proudly displayed her moves to her family.

She never felt the sweat slowly trickling down her spine, or the heat of her muscles, stretched to the extreme, or the pain of her feet in the pointes. She simply realized she had stopped dancing, that the Bolero was done. She haddn’t felt it pass, lost in memories.

Maybe it was the little laughing girl in her pink tutu who danced that night.

Thunderous applause brought Katniss back to where she was, still panting, muscles aching on the stage of the National, next to a very smiling Thresh. They nodded at each other, trying to convey all the pride they were feeling despite the exhaustion of the thirteen minute long piece, before turning to the audience.

They greeted the public, Thresh bowing, Katniss curtsying, her mind still trying to come to terms with what had just happened. She couldn’t recall dancing, couldn’t recall anything past the first notes of the flute, nothing but her memories of herself as a little girl dancing in her first tutu.

 

She held Thresh’s hand as they left the stage, before the other part of the show could start, the Fall River Legend ballet - for which Katniss hoped they had solved the problem of the blood stain on the white nightgown, but that wasn’t her problem. She was running high on adrenaline, which made her heart beat faster, stronger, fueled with an incredible energy. Once in the safety of the backstage area, she felt her partner’s strong arms holding her against his chest, engrossing her in a bear hug.

Strangely, the comfort of Thresh’s arms wasn’t as safe as it should be, with him being so big and friendly. On the contrary, it was almost too much, almost a restraint, as if he didn’t want to let her go… Soon, very soon, she felt uncomfortable, tearing away of the set of arms that wasn’t the one she wanted to be held in the first place.

“Kat, you were great - I’ve never seen you dance like that! it was like you created each move on the spot, as if the choreography was flowing out of you. It was marvelous!”

“Big Boy is right, Sweetheart. You were radiant up there. It’s good to see all the work you put off was for something. Well done.” Haymitch’s praise, along with his cheering and a thumbs up was unexpected. The man was really stingy when it came to compliments. Katniss felt her cheeks flame as she tried to think how to explain what happened there.

“I… I don’t know.. Thank you?”

“You should be proud of yourself, Sweetheart, that was a really good perf--”

“Oh Katniss! Look at you! You were radiant, that was so beautiful! You almost made me cry! That’s what dancing should be, all of the feelings, Katniss, all of the feelings!” Effie chimed in, moving between the men in front of her to hug the dancer. Instead of big arms and sweat, Katniss was assaulted by small limbs and a strong smell of the patchouli perfume the woman always wore, often leaving everybody around her with a headache in the process.

Maybe it’s because Effie was a woman, or maybe because she had been on the verge of breaking down for so long now, always bottling them in, but in that moment Katniss felt the need for an embrace, for human contact.

She grabbed Effie’s pink-like jacket (she couldn’t give the real name of the color to save her life) to hide the tears that were threatening to fall, trying to contain the wave of emotion bursting in her chest, her mind, her heart.

“Shhhh,” the whisper was barely audible. “It’s good to cry, but we don’t want them to see it, right? Let’s go downstairs, sweet child.”

Effie carefully maneuvered the both of them towards the stairs leading to the locker room for the dancers, where Katniss found her bag, waiting for her.

“There, dear. Take a shower, and meet us all after? We’re going out to celebrate, right?”

Right. Katniss hadn’t forgotten the ritual that took place after each show. Dancers and technicians alike, gathering all together to have a relaxing evening. She wasn’t a fan of it, far from it. The noise and closeness to people was so overwhelming when she needed the calm and quiet of the empty room to become herself again. To come back from the sheer exhaustion dancing caused her, to come back to the reality of her world, bleeding feet, aching muscles, headaches from all the pins in her hair and music too loud.

She usually ran after a show.

To hide away from the eyes of her co-dancers.

It was easier to run and hide. To pretend nobody would notice.

Something had changed though. The need, the will to run away was still present in her body and mind, but Katniss could hear a little voice whispering that she could stay and maybe enjoy herself. That maybe running away wasn’t the only option she had, that there was something else, something scary maybe, but she wouldn’t know if she didn’t try.

She turned to the older woman, still standing behind her.

“Yes, Effie, we’re celebrating tonight.”

\--

It was scary, she thought. It was one of the first times that she would be out with everybody willingly, not out of any kind of obligation like the Christmas party, even though she still had to fight that desire to run away. She almost did, at one point, when all the girls came in after the second part of the show was done, with their deafening chattering.

Katniss usually felt bothered by their small talk, about such mundane things, from the color of the last lip gloss they tested to the taste of the last pair of lips they tried. It made her want to roll her eyes to the bottom of her skull. Today, it seemed as if she had changed her eyes. Of course the young women were still talking about how hot the latest movie star was, but in some of them, Katniss could see details she never noticed before. How Katie wasn’t laughing at some of the jokes, or how Tina didn’t answer directly, hiding herself behind her large towel. Maybe some of the others were also broken like she was, or maybe some were even more broken.

She had never thought about it before. Somewhere deep down inside of her, something had shifted.

Fully dressed, she emerged from her dark corner of the locker room, the place she usually sat before running away, and walked to the large mirror on the wall, starting to braid her dark wet hair the way she liked it best. Before she could change her mind, she turned to Tina, still clad in her grey towel.

“How did it go? Was the stain bloody enough for Effie’s taste?”

A ghost of a smile graced the woman’s mouth.

“It’s never enough for Effie you know? I thought Nathan was going to let me fall during the lift. There was still the smell from fresh paint, it was disgusting. It’s like I’m high on paint fumes now.”

“And you could do the whole ballet with that stench? Wow, that’s impressive!”

“You would have done the same, Katniss. How did your part go? We couldn’t see it.”

“It was okay. Will you be after all these fumes?”

“Yeah, I will. I just hope I won’t have to do that again anytime soon!”

“I bet! But as long as Trinket is happy, you--”

“Katniss? There’s someone waiting for you up here!” A voice echoed in the locker room, whose voice she couldn’t tell. There was someone waiting for her in the lobby? It was the first time in forever that someone had asked specifically for her - the last time was before Prim fled to France for a showing of Giselle. Nobody had called for her since.

Katniss gathered her bag, since she wouldn’t be coming back downstairs before leaving for the restaurant. She tucked a strand of rebellious hair behind her ear before grabbing her worn-out leather jacket and exiting the locker room.

In her outfit, she knew she could easily go unnoticed, but she’d never been a girl for wearing fancy clothing. She needed her comfy jeans and favorite sweatshirt, it was a ritual she would deny having. A pair of boots without heels (her feet already ached a lot, thank you very much) completed her outfit.

She didn’t know what - or rather, who - to expect when she climbed up the steps to the formal lobby. Maybe it was Madge? It had to be. She had told both Madge and Derek she would be performing that night and secretly hoped they would come to see her, that someone cared enough to see her big moment. Because even though she dismissed it with a wave of her hand every time it was mentioned, tonight really was her debut, as a soloist as a maybe - maybe - contestant to the title of Etoile.

She heard the noise long before arriving at the top of the stairs. A cacophony of muffled noise, voices kept low in the impressive room of marble and gold statues, and a crystal chandelier hanging from a ceiling on which some well-known artist had drawn magnificent dancers.

Katniss felt really out of place as she walked the last steps. She usually escaped through the back entry, unnoticed by the people waiting for the main dancers. She was one, of course, but so different from the ballerina on stage, clad as she was in her jeans and leather jacket, hair braided over her left shoulder. That day, though, she felt for once underdressed as she looked for the person who had called for her, still wondering who in the hell it could be.

She made her way through the crowd of people - some ladies in evening gowns recognizing her, complimenting her for her performance on stage - her eyes looking everywhere around. But she never found the person she was looking for, the one waiting for her. A thrill started to climb up her spine, as a name echoed in her mind, a hope - dare she call it hope? She couldn’t tell. Yet she could feel eyes on her, following her around as she searched for the source, wandering in the too large lobby, filled with too many people for her to see clearly.

Suddenly, a glimpse. Blue or gold, she couldn’t tell, she just made her way to the back of the room, passing through the crowd gathered. She never heard the applause as Thresh came into the lobby with the rest of the ballet, her focus on the man leaning on a golden column, an angel above his head.

He had a small smile on his face as he watched her come closer. The crowd converged towards the stairs and the other dancers, leaving the man and woman on their own, alone in a crowded room.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, not trusting her voice to be steady enough to speak louder.

“I came to see a ballet.”

No, that wasn’t true, and Katniss knew it. He came to see her dance. “And how was the ballet?”

“There was this dancer, so lost in the music she forgot to think about her steps. She became the dance.”

“That’s because she had a good teacher.”

“Or maybe she had it in her from the beginning.”

Katniss felt the blush spreading onto her face. She walked forward, trying to take the last steps towards him, those three last steps….

“Katniss! Come over here! We’re taking a picture!”

Thresh’s baritone voice echoed above the noise of the crowd, making her turn her head towards the big guy.

She felt a breath of air passing by her, carrying the cinnamon smell she had become accustomed to those last few months, and she knew, knew without looking that the moment was lost. That Peeta was gone.

She reluctantly joined her fellow dancers, took the obligatory pictures, and tried to smile, not knowing whether she managed to get the scowl off her face or not.

Soon enough, the crowd started to dissipate, losing themselves in the mundane conversations the arrivals of the dancers had broken a few moments ago.

The performers started to head to their exit, the one they didn’t share, with promises to meet at Chez Valerie later for dinner. Katniss nodded her agreement, that yes, she would come, and no, she would not hide away in her flat by herself, watching stupid shows on Netflix.

She gathered the bag she had dropped earlier near the column and looked at the tiny angel statue, with his stupid bow and arrow, smiling down at her.

“You think you’re funny, right? You stupid kid. Get out of your diapers and don’t look at me like that. I’m not in love, okay?”

And yes, she was completely aware she was talking to a statue, thank you very much.

Too much had happened tonight. The performance left her feeling exposed to the audience, even more than if she had been completely naked. To know that Peeta had watched her like that, completely lost to the music and the dance, made her both proud and filled with fear. What would he think? Would he be proud of her too?

If she could trust his words, he had been happy she could tear her walls down, that she was able to overcome her fears. But what if he hadn’t liked what he saw? What if he thought this dancer wasn’t the one he wanted to see, what if she had disappointed him?

And why did what Peeta thought matter so much to her?

 

\--

As predicted, the dinner at Chez Valerie was filled with good French food and wine, and with so much noise it made Katniss want to run home as quickly as possible. She had already decided that as soon as the dessert was eaten (because, seriously, who would say no to crème brûlée?) she would head out. Too many questions running through her head, exhaustion taking over her body, and the sheer desire to be left alone to rest her head and body were outweighing her willingness to remain in the restaurant.

“Miss Everdeen?” She turned her head, not expecting to be called by the waiter, who was clearly looking for the person he was calling.

Katniss raised her hand, letting the man know she was the one he asked for. With a tiny smile, the waiter approached her.

“You have a phone call. Please follow me?”

A phone call? In the era of smartphones who could be bothered to try to reach her in a restaurant? Who even knew she was in that restaurant? She quickly checked her phone, which showed no missed calls, only a text from Prim wishing her luck for the performance. Nothing else.

Who could know she was there? The only people who had that information were all right there, with her. Unless it was a joke from one of her coworkers? Because everybody knew she couldn’t handle a joke, right? This time, she would prove them wrong.

She nodded at the waiter, following him to the wooden counter of the bar standing nearby where he showed her an old, almost antique phone with the handset laying right beside it.

Katniss carefully grabbed it, still wondering who was pranking her, looking over at their long, long table filled with all the cast and crew. But nobody seemed to have a phone in their hand, nor to their ear.

“Hello?” she asked into the handset, still scrutinizing the crew to spot the one.

“Katniss?”

She didn’t expect that voice. At all.

“How do you know I was here?”

“Well, the gang always used to unite at Valerie’s after a show. Took a chance.”

“Good guess, I’d say. But, why are you calling?”

“You’ve had the crème brûlée already?”

“What?”

On the other side of the line, he chuckled. The bastard. “Their crème brûlée is good. Not Mellark-good, but still edible.”

“Aren’t you full of yourself?”

“Not really. You’ll have to give ours a try. But for your information, their pastry chef worked with Dad for five years… So, how was it?”

“How was what?”

“The crème brûlée, Katniss. Focus…”

“How did you know I ordered it?”

“That, little Grasshopper, is yours to discover.”

“Peeta!” she half-spoke, half-shouted in the phone, and he laughed as he hung up on her.

“He hung up on me! Where is he?” she said to the phone, amazed.

As the device decided not to answer, she started looking around. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew Peeta was there. Somewhere. Around.

Not at their table, and he wasn’t one of the waiters around. She quickly grabbed her coat and purse, happy she had chosen a seat at the end of the table, before taking a quick glance around the room. He wasn’t there. Which left two options. The kitchen, where she wouldn’t be allowed to go, or outside. She discreetly made her way out of the restaurant, thanking her natural stealth and her decades of training.

The fresh air of the night attacked her by surprise, sneaking through her scarf and coat. The overwhelming noise of the restaurant was muffled now that she was outside, a reprieve for her ears. She breathed in the air, taking some time to soothe her mind and rest her body.

But she was on a mission to find Peeta.

She didn’t need to worry about him, though. Soon enough, she felt a hand on her right arm, a light touch not meant to grab her, rather to let her know she wasn’t alone.

“Hey.” Did he whisper? Did he speak at all? She couldn’t tell. She turned on her heel, facing him. “I’m not a stalker, I swear?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leaving the ballet with everybody.”

“You were still there?”

“I wanted to congratulate you after the show, but there were just too many people inside the lobby. I waited outside, but then I saw you leave with the gang. Someone shouted about the desserts, and voila, I knew you headed to Chez Valerie.”

“I didn’t see you…” Katniss whispered.

“Why would you? You were with your friends.”

“They are not my friends… Coworkers, but not friends. I don’t do friends well.”

“Don’t you? Then what are we? Coworkers? Co-dancers?” Peeta asked.

“I don’t know….”

“Do you want to get away from here?”

“What? To go where?”

“Somewhere?”

“Is this a date?”

He winked at her. “I don’t know? Do you want it to be a date?”

She couldn’t tell.

 

He stopped a taxi with that special kind of power men had, opened the door to her and gave the driver an address somewhere downtown.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To a club.”

“Oh, no, not the thing Delly told me about!”

His face showed surprise at her words. “You saw Delly?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No, tell me what?”

“I thought she told you!”

“Katniss. You need to explain, I’m not a mind reader…”

“Delly told me this week when I went to your show that you guys were heading to that club tonight. And I’m so tired, I don’t want to go there…”

“You came to see the show again? Why?”

“She didn’t tell you? Because it would be easier if she had told you.”

“Told me what?”

The man had patience, she would give him that. She lacked the words, or maybe the courage to tell him what she wanted to say. The main question was, though, why was she afraid to tell him those simple words?

“Okay, then, as I have no other option….” Peeta opened his coat, rummaging through his jeans pocket to extract his phone.

“What are you doing?” Katniss, horrified, watched him looking through his contacts, until he reached the name Cartwright, which happened to be just above the name Everdeen.

“Phoning, obviously.”

“You’re not going to ask Delly, right?”

“I’m going to have that answer, one way or another.”

He clicked on the call button.

Katniss hid her blushing face in her hands, hoping to somehow teleport into another universe to not hear the conversation he was going to have with Delly. She live without the shame, thank you very much.

She almost jumped when she heard the familiar ringtone of her phone, the blues music signaling someone was calling her. She grabbed it quickly, happy to find an escape when surprise took over.

The name on the screen said Peeta Mellark.

He was calling her.

When she actually was sitting right next to him.

Smiling at her, he nodded for Katniss to pick the phone up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Katniss, it’s Peeta! How are you?”

“You know damn well how I am, you’re sitting next to me!”

“I can’t hear you? Are you in a tunnel or something?”

Katniss thought she could feel her eyes rolling right to the back of her skull at his pitiful attempt at playing pretend. How old was he? Eight?

“Or something.”

Peeta then moved his hands to tell her to go on with the game. She was sure the cab driver jumped at the sound of her sigh.

“So what’s up Peeta?”

“Well, I have a problem. There’s this girl who doesn’t want to tell me what she told Delly.”

“Poor you. And you can’t use your silver tongue to coax her to tell you?”

“I’d rather she trusted me enough to tell me without being coerced, you know. I won’t make fun of her or anything.”

Katniss closed her eyes, trying to not let her emotions take over.

“Maybe she thinks it’s stupid? That she shouldn’t have said them or come at all?”

“Maybe she’s wrong. Maybe he just wants to listen to her.”

Katniss took a deep breath. It wasn’t as hard as throwing that damn balloon into the sky.

“I just came to see the show, and talk to that guy. I wanted to tell him I enjoyed dancing with him. That I wanted to go on dancing like we did.”

“Then why don’t you tell him?”

“I’m afraid,” she whispered in her phone, her eyes still closed. “I’m afraid he doesn’t want to. That I was just an experiment to him.”

“You could never be just an experiment, Katniss. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to be his friend. Because I’m sure he would love to dance with you again.”

She opened her eyes, finally - finally- to meet his, blue glistening in the dark of the night.

She forgot her phone, looking straight at Peeta, with his phone still to his ear, and grabbed his hand, squeezing it once. He didn’t miss a step - he never did - and squeezed hers too, finally lowering his hand.

Playtime was over, Katniss realized.

He lifted his hand, and she thought he was going to put it on her cheek, to tuck that strand of hair behind her ear, to linger on her jaw, until he lifted her chin and kiss--

What? Where did that come from? In what parallel universe did she want Peeta to kiss her?

Exhaustion - that was where it was coming from. She was tired from all the dancing she had done lately, from the dinner, from everything. It made strange emotions come to the front of her mind, made strange feelings creep up her spine. Made her world spin too quickly.

All these emotions passed, as Peeta’s hand didn’t stop at her face, instead pointing out something through the taxi window. She followed the line of his arm, the shadow of the tattoo she knew was there, hidden under the sleeve of his coat, the dandelion flying in the sun, to his fingers, strong and lean, with calluses she didn’t expect. He was pointing at a random facade, an anonymous brick wall like any other.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” she asked.

“The RatPack”

“Really? Is this a joke?”

“No, I swear, it’s not. Come.” He handed some bills to the cab driver who muttered a thank you, eager to leave.

“Come, Katniss…!”

Peeta grabbed her hand as she watched the cab’s lights fade away in the dark of the night. Again, a choice. She could easily take another taxi to head home, or follow Peeta inside that building. Take another leap of faith.

“So, where are you taking me?”

“I told you, it’s The RatPack.”.

“Peeta…” she could hear the exasperation in her own voice, which only made him smile.

As they neared the brick building, Katniss felt him move closer to her, his hand resting against the small of her back to guide her to a little black door he opened, letting her pass in front of him.

“Welcome to the RatPack.”

As soon as she came in, her senses were overwhelmed. A soft music was playing in the back, a sad piano whispering notes to a tall woman singing something Katniss didn’t recognize. The club was filled with booths in a brown leather that screamed comfort, not too close to one another, so as to keep the discussions private. The place wasn’t crowded, more than half the booths were taken, and some people were dancing to the music on a makeshift dancefloor stuck up between the stage and the wooden bar.

“I thought you might need something to relax. A quiet little place, where you can have a drink or two before going home. And forget about the day, or week.”

Katniss couldn’t help but look around more, not really believing her eyes. This was the kind of club that you saw in movies, not in real life. She looked at Peeta who was awkwardly standing next to her, his left hand running through his hair, a clear sign of his nervousness.

She suddenly understood why. He thought this was a bad idea. That he had gone too far by taking her here, when she should be resting at home.

“This is incredible, Peeta, I didn’t even know places like this still existed! It’s like we’ve gone back in time!”

“I’m glad you like it, really. Do you want to sit down?”

She nodded. Her feet could use the rest, and her bottom ached to test the softness of the leather.

She felt again the touch of his hand on her back as he lead her through the maze of tables until they reached one close to the bar.

“Shouldn’t we wait for someone?” asked Katniss.

“No, you come in, sit down and a waiter will come.”

“That’s unexpected…”

He laughed as he was holding the chair for her to sit, before he took his turn, sitting in front of her. Katniss grabbed the drink menu, looking through the list of cocktails and beers, frowning as she took in the elaborate concoctions.

“And for the lovebirds? What will it be?” A young woman, with spiky red hair, and too many piercings in her ear to count, dressed in an outfit made for a punk club rather than a jazz place, was standing in front of their table.

Katniss blushed at the mention of Peeta and her being a couple.

“We’re not…”

“Don’t care. What do you want to drink?”

“Pina Colada for me. Katniss?” Peeta answered as the brunette was looking for something to drink on that stupid card, until she gave up.

“I don’t suppose you have Chardonnay?”

“Sure do. So a Chardonnay and a Pina Colada? Be back in five, lovebirds”

Without further ado, in a whirlwind of jeans and Doc Martens, the waitress was gone.

Raising an eyebrow, Katniss looked at the young man in front of her, his curly blond hair falling again in his eyes, as usual, while he was taking off his coat. She hadn’t notice his outfit earlier, in the lobby or in the taxi, focused as she was in their talks. He had dressed up for the occasion, with black pants, and a white shirt hidden by a blue sweater, making her feel under-dressed for the second time in the evening.

“So, Chardonnay?” Peeta asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the table.

“Yeah, I can’t drink too much, or else I'm going to pay for it during Kristina’s class. I’ve kind of become a lightweight these last few years.”

“Sometimes I wonder how the college students do it, you know? Party all night long, drink and so on. Guess being in ballet means learning discipline, right? Is Kristina still so harsh on everybody?”

“Yeah, still. And she keeps the hardest routines for the Monday morning sessions. So, Pina Colada? I didn’t take you for a rum drinker.”

“Yeah, I like it. Must have been a pirate in another life.”

Katniss giggled at the thought of Peeta on a pirate ship, a parrot on the shoulder, shouting “Ahoy, Ahoy,” to a bunch of sailors.

“What, you don’t believe I’d make a good pirate?” He winked. “Just so you know, I don’t pillage and plunder on a first date.”

“What! Oh my god, Peeta!” Katniss’s brain was on overdrive, analyzing his words - was this a first date? What was he insinuating? Did he want to…? She was saved by the waitress coming back with their drinks, placing her glass of white wine in front of her without a word or a look, but taking all the time she could to carefully arrange Peeta’s drink in front of him, making sure he noticed the way she took him in. Katniss could even see the blush creeping up his cheeks, as the red haired let her hand linger on his arm a bit too long.

“Need anything else, Handsome, just call for me,” she said, loud enough for both Katniss and Peeta to hear her. Katniss heard hear her brain sing-songing the last phrase mockingly, and was sure her face displayed her disdain at the redheaded.

She didn’t expect Peeta to start laughing, having said nothing unless…

“I said that out loud, right?”

“I’m neither affirming nor denying. I value my life too much.”

“Good answer.”

“What if we give her a show?”

“What? What do you mean?” A thousand thoughts at least came through Katniss’s mind. What did he mean? Did he want them to kiss here, here to annoy a waitress? Did he want to run his hands up her arms and shoulders until they reached her chin, turning her face to his slowly… STOP! she screamed at her mind, completely taken aback by where her thoughts were heading.

“You’re a dancer. I’m a dancer. Let’s show her what dancing is.”

“And you think that will suffice?” Katniss knew she sounded suspicious, but really couldn’t help it. Too many things had happened in her head since stepping into this little club, just as if she had stepped into an episode of Doctor Who - where everything could happen. She really needed to unsubscribe to Netflix.

“We’ll know afterwards. It will be a start anyway. Maybe she won’t be so… forward after?”

“Wait, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy being ogled and caressed by a woman?”

“I’m not a piece of meat, Katniss. You women don’t like to be catcalled, I guess I don’t like to be looked at like I'm the next plate on the menu. Besides, she’s definitely not my type. I do prefer less flamboyant women.”

Wow. Wait. Stop and rewind. Was that an innuendo? Was he flirting with her?

“I have no clue what you’re thinking about, Katniss, but stop. Shall we dance?”

He was waiting for her answer, she realized, as he grabbed his glass to take a sip of his cocktail. She could use liquid courage too right now, she thought. She had no clue what kind of dance he wanted to do, had no experience with anything jazzy, and yet, yet, when he extended his hand to her, she didn’t hesitate in taking it.

Peeta waited for her to circle the table to start walking, matching his steps with hers. Katniss could feel her hand being warmed up by his larger one, noticing he did not twine their fingers, and somehow, missing this added contact.

The song died in the background, giving her a bit of respite, a bit of time to calm her running heart.

“Peeta - I’ve never danced to this kind of music before. I have no clue what to do!”

“You saw Dirty Dancing, right?”

Of course she did. She was a dancer, that was a movie about dance.

“Of course!” “Then follow Johnny’s words. Feel the music. The steps will come.”

“Do you know which song is next?” Katniss asked, as the applause died down and the singer grabbed her mic.

“No clue. Something jazzy maybe?”

“You’re hilarious.”

She stopped talking as the singer started to speak.

“This one is really my favorite. A great name sang it. I’ll do my best for you folks, tonight. Here’s Unforgettable, from Mr. Nat King Cole.”

Applause rose from the small club, from the booths, bar and dance floor alike.

Katniss breathed with relief, she knew the song. Good. But panic threatened to take over. It was a slow song, a love song from a father to his daughter. How would she do that without breaking down?

“Relax,” she heard a whisper as Peeta lifted her right hand, putting his left on her waist, bringing her close to him, so close she could see his Adam’s apple moving just above the collar of his shirt. She noticed his hand had started making tiny circles on her back in a soothing movement, in an attempt to calm her down.

She felt his chin close to hers, so close she wasn’t sure a butterfly wing could be placed between them. She felt his thigh guiding her to move backwards, his grip on her strong and solid without being restrictive. She knew she could break the circle of his arms at any time, and he would let her go. He wasn’t trying to cage her. He had already set her free.

As the first words of the song grazed her ear, she realized exactly what Peeta had done for her. Her feet kept moving to the music, and she couldn’t for the life of her say which steps she had taken. She trusted her partner to make her dance, to make her shine. He had set her free, gave her the key to dancing, gave her the key to living for herself, not through others. He gave her her freedom.

And yet, she was pretty sure she would surrender this freedom if he asked.

The thought should have scared her, should have made her leave, running, should have made her take a step away.

It should have.

It didn’t.

She took a step closer, bathing in his scent, in the warm embrace of his arms, in the security that was him, in his comfort.

Unforgettable, that’s what he was.

It was as if he’d sensed her need for closeness, his hand moved higher on her back, holding her near. He was in total control of the dance, and yet, Katniss knew he would surrender that control if she asked for it. But she didn’t want to.

Peeta lead her to the rhythm of the music, never breaking contact with her, always touching, until she heard him whisper again.

“Let’s show them what we can do.”

Without further notice, he made her spin. Katniss was surprised at first, but years and years of training allowed her to adapt, to follow his lead, his moves.

And she spun, she spun, like the little girl she once had been, laughter erupting from her belly because she was happy.

It dawned on her. She was happy. Right in this minute, in this place, in this club, with this sweet, handsome man; she was happy.

The song came to an end too quickly.

She remained, with her eyes closed, her head on his shoulder when the music had died.

She heard his intake of breath before she felt his lips on her cheek, lingering maybe a few seconds longer than necessary.

But not nearly long enough for her liking.

They danced to another song before heading back to their table, hands still linked together. Were they still putting on a show? Katniss couldn’t tell, wouldn’t ask, didn’t want to think about it. She felt good right there at the time, not caring about a thing, like the twenty-four year old woman she was. Free, happy, dancing. Two out of hree words that until tonight she wasn’t sure she could associate with herself. And still, here she was, in a small jazz club hidden from the rest of the town, having a good time with this kind, sweet, handsome man.

They sat down again, and giggled at the sight of their waitress. The spiky redhead was no longer in charge of their table, it appeared.

“See, we did it.” Peeta winked. “Mischief managed.”

“Seriously? Ollivander’s and now the Marauder’s map? Are you guys reading Harry Potter on a monthly basis?”

“Weekly. This is Azkaban week, actually.”

“You are just a band of nerds.” Katniss smiled in her glass, her second and last. No way she was going to have more if she wanted to get up the next morning.

The sound of a bell almost made her spit.

“What was that?”

“The bell.”

“Peeta! I know it was a bell. But why?”

“Never been to a pub in England before?”

“No?”

“The bell means this joint will close in fifteen minutes. The owner is English and he brought his traditions with him.”

“You know everybody, right?”

He chuckled. “No, I’ve been here before and asked what the bell was about.”

Of course he’d been there before, or else how would he have known where to go? Something bothered her at that thought, though. She couldn’t pinpoint it, maybe her mind was too full of dance, spinning and alcohol for that.

She hid a yawn behind her hand, feeling the exhaustion in her limbs, climbing up every fiber of her being. The day had been long, but she didn’t want it to end. She didn’t want to leave the quiet and comfort of the club, where the music wasn't too loud, the lights weren’t too bright, the place not too crowded. She didn’t know jazz would fit her like that. She didn’t know dancing could be like that either. She didn’t know laughing would make her feel like so alive, so free.

“You’re tired. Let’s get you home. You need a good night of rest.”

“I’m okay…” she started, before another yawn took her over.

“We can always come back another time, if you want?”

They could. He didn’t want her out of his life as she thought he would. They could come back to this place and dance, have fun teasing the spiky waitress (Katniss had decided to call her Spike), enjoying a good evening with a friend.

She stopped her move, rising up from her chair, a half-second pause in which she assessed her thought. At how she just referred to Peeta.

“Friend,” Katniss half-whispered, half-spoke.

“Sorry?” Peeta had busied himself looking through his pockets for his wallet, apparently.

She felt a bit more confident saying it the second time around.

“Friend. You’re my friend, Peeta.”

The smile he gave her could have lit the entire club.

“I am. And you are mine, right?”

“Yeah… Yes, I am,” Katniss stated firmly, the thought of having Peeta as a friend was a reality she wanted to grip and embrace.

“So, if you’re ready, friend, we’ll head out.” He put some bills on the table before offering her his hand.

“Peeta! You can’t pay everything!”

“I can’t hear you, Katniss, what you were saying? Now come on, before they kick us out.”

“Peeta Mellark…”

“Don’t even try to intimidate me, Everdeen. Or to threaten me…”

“Or what? You’re going to lift me over your shoulder like a bag of flour and carry me all caveman like?”

“I might. You can’t weigh more than a sack of flour. And I guess our spiky friend wouldn’t mind a view of my weightlifting performance, don’t you think?”

“You wouldn’t….”

“Try me.” The little glint in his eyes prevented Katniss from acting right on.

“Okay. But next time, it’s on me.”

“We’ll see. Now, let’s get you home.”

It was only later, much later, in the safety of her bed that Katniss realized what she had implied.

There would be another outing with Peeta.


	17. Step 17: Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day after the Bolero.  
> The Day after the Jazz Club.
> 
> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest, deepest thanks to the Lone Rangers - @dandelion-sunset and the incredible @xerxia31 who betaed this chapter (and trust me, there's a lot to do) and the awesome @akai-echo who creates art with each banner or aesthetics.
> 
> Please do not hesitate to comment or leave a message.  
> I'm thegirlfromoverthepond on tumblr :)

Katniss liked the mornings after.

After she was done with a show, when all the stress had drained from her tired muscles, when her mind could be at rest for a few days, not worrying about breaking her pointes or getting a stretch. She could stay in bed, relax, take her time waking up and getting out of bed.

The sun was shining outside the bedroom windows, warming her through her heavy quilt. She bathed in the heat, laziness overtaking her for once. She could feel the soreness in her legs and arms, knew she would have to go through her post-show routine, do her active recovery to be able to go back to the Ballet the next day, but for now, lying awake was enough.

Flashes of the evening came to her mind. Her long dress, red like a flame dancing around her legs, her hands, the wings of butterflies flying into the air, the feeling of losing herself to the music and the steps. It could be frightening, the time seemingly lost, but was it really? She spent her dancing, remembering the time when she was a little girl, before the exhaustion of the ballet took over, before the fights for the roles started, before every dance was a competition. 

Her stomach was the one thing that led her finally out of bed, only to realize that her fridge was empty save for some scraps - she honestly couldn’t remember where they had come from - and a bottle of milk dating from at least the Middle Age. She sighed. Yes, she would have to go grocery shopping.

 

Right now though, the emergency was to get breakfast, to calm her demanding stomach. Which implied getting dressed and going out.

The promise of good coffee and muffins was enough to take her to the bathroom to shower, imagining the smell of freshly baked pastries helped her get dressed, and soon enough, her coat and scarf on, she was heading towards her favorite coffee shop.

Except Katniss discovered that her Starbucks didn’t smell like fresh muffins and cinnamon rolls, but rather of sweat, and so many different flavors of coffee, tea, and whatever wasn’t bearable on an empty stomach.

She exited the place quickly, hungry and disappointed. She didn’t want to deal with a bunch of people, with baristas handling her an anonymous cup with her name badly spelled. She just wanted a bit of quiet time with a hot beverage and something to fill her belly.

She tried to ignore the thought nagging at the back of her head. The thought that, truth be told, had hit her as soon as she put a foot out of her apartment building. She could go to Peeta’s father’s bakery, where she was sure to enjoy cinnamon rolls and cheese buns. That were good. Decadent, even. It would require her to take a trip to the other end of the city, just for some pastries. Something like a twenty minute ride by the tube.

“This isn’t reasonable,” she heard herself mutter as she walked down the stairs leading to the metro entry.

\--

Twenty-two minutes later, Katniss found herself in front of the old bakery that held so much promise for her stomach. The smell coming out of the building was nothing like the coffee shop she went to earlier. Here it was a promise of treats to come, of having difficulty choosing between the croissants and the muffins, of ending up taking one of each. Here it was the promise of a savoury hot chocolate she could take to the small tables she noticed the last time, sipping slowly, enjoying the quiet and warmth of the room. Here, nobody would hand her an anonymous cup with her name on it, but instead one of Peeta’s brothers would come to her table, or maybe his father, with his kind smile.

Yeah, she would definitely enjoy her breakfast here.

She pushed open the door, entering into the heaven that was the Mellark bakery. She noticed another person manning the counter, one that wasn’t Will or Henry.

“Welcome to Mellarks! What can I get you?”

His smile was wide, friendly and inviting. Unruly curls, so much like Peeta’s only darker blonde, and brown eyes greeted her, showing Katniss all the inventory in the counter tops.

“Hum… I don’t know? I really can’t choose…” She wished Peeta was there to help her pick something out of that mountain of goods. “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course. For here or to go?”

“Here, please. And well, I don’t know what to have with it…”

“Tell you what,” he said, leaning on the counter. “You go sit, and I’ll come back to you with your beverage and something to eat. You don’t like it, you don’t pay. Is that okay?”

“Perfect. Thank you!” she added to the wind, as the man had already left the front.

He was back moments later, as the doorbells ringed. Katniss went to one of the tables, sitting herself in the corner, waiting for her breakfast to come. The door opened a couple of times as people came and went, bread under their arms or brown bags full of promises in their hands.

“In the corner!” she heard the man’s voice, no doubt signaling her position to the waitress. A couple of tables were occupied, mainly by young people obviously coming back from a long night in the clubs.

“Katniss? It’s you! Wow!”

Katniss glanced away from the couples she was watching to find herself face to face with Will, Peeta’s brother. Which rendered her speechless.

“I’m surprised you recognized me.”

And she was, truly. It had been weeks now since he saw her, when she came to the bakery with Peeta.

“Well, of course I remember you! It’s not everyday Peet brings someone to the bakery, you know. Aside from Delly - you know Dels, right?- You are, I think, the first woman he brought here. You must be important to him.”

Katniss was amazed at Will’s words. But then memories of why she was brought here came back to her mind. The fall. The hospital. The concussion. The day they spent together, when he didn’t want to leave her on her own.

She didn’t know how to answer. Tell the truth and have Will wonder how close they were that she spent an entire day with him, or let him believe they were more than friends and that was why Peeta brought her to the bakery.

“Oh, you want to talk to Peeta, maybe? I’ll go fetch him!”

“Oh, no, don’t disturb him pl--”

“Pff, it won’t be a bother. And I’d rather not have him discover I saw you and said nothing. Kiddo can be pretty angry when he wants to be. He still got moves, you know?”

Oh, that she knew. He was a hell of a dancer. He had moves, and a way of swaying his hips that was borderline indecent.

“Yeah, I see you know his moves. I’ll go get him.” Will put a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of her, along with a plate on which were laying different pastries, all golden, all mouth watering.

Katniss felt the blush climbing to her cheeks at Will’s words, implying so much more than what was real between her and Peeta. “Yeah, he’s a good dancer.”

Will stopped moving, surprise etched all over his face.

“Yeah, he can dance. He didn’t tell you he used to be a wrestler though? In high school? Finished second in the regional tournament because he let Dave win?”

“No, he never told me that. But we just dance together. He really let someone else win?”

Will smiled, as if recalling the memory.

“Yeah. Davey here,” he indicated the man behind the counter with his thumb. “He’s our other brother. Older than Peanut, though.”

“Peanut?!”

“Yeah, that’s what I call Peet. Dave’s Cashew, Peeta’s Peanut.”

“And you are? Walnut?” He dismissed her with a smirk and a wave of his hand.

“The Nutcracker, of course. I’ll go fetch the kid. Be right back.”

Without another word, Will left the table, leaving Katniss to wonder how much of the nickname story was real. It took her a few moments to realize he hadn’t told her the end of the wrestling story.

 

Katniss didn’t register until she saw the broad form of Peeta walking towards her that he was actually there, coming to meet her, a huge smile on his face. She never thought about it while taking the tube, only focusing on filling her stomach. Never thought about it until Will mentioned him. She knew for a fact Peeta had gotten home later than she did - they shared a cab and he insisted she was the first stop. And she had fallen into her bed immediately, the Chardonnay affecting her. But there he was, smiling, looking fresh and rejuvenated, while she was pretty sure her face showed the lack of sleep she had accumulated these last few weeks.

“Hey, Katniss, you should have told me you were coming!”

“Well, I kind of decided on the spot, so… and I didn’t know you worked here too...”

“Yeah, every Sunday morning. Oh! You don’t have cheese buns?!”

Peeta turned to the counter where Will and David were serving customers.

“Come, I have a batch coming out in five minutes, so you’ll have fresh ones! Bring your cup.”

“Peeta, no. I can’t do that, you have to work.”

“Pff, nobody will mind, don’t worry. We can talk behind. And I think Dad’s making some new kind of pie, he’ll appreciate someone tasting it.” He grabbed her mug off the table, holding his hand out to her.

“Peeta…”

“Katniss, please? I know Chip & Dale are watching us right now, and there’s no way they will leave us alone if we stay here.”

“Because they can’t do that more freely in the kitchen?”

“Don’t tell anybody but they are still afraid of Dad.” Peeta winked, his hand still held in front of her. “Come on, I’ll make sure you won’t be disappointed.”

“Yeah, he won’t disappoint, Katniss. Trust him, he’s a real stud.”

“David!” Peeta’s cheeks were as red as the apron his brother was wearing, embarrassment bringing a lovely shade to his face.

This. This was what Katniss missed the most without her sister. The squabbling, the banter. The embarrassment only a sibling could bring. The incessant presence, the shared memories that growing up together meant. The evenings watching Lifetime movies, the days swimming at the lake.

The familiarity and ease of a life built together. But now she was building her life alone.

This time though, thinking of her sister away didn’t bring the pain, the hurt in her heart, because she realized she wasn’t on her own. There were people around her, caring for her, laughing with her.

She took Peeta’s hand, ready to follow him back to the kitchen - after all, the promise of cheese buns and apple pie would make her go nearly anywhere - but stopped for just a few seconds, turning to face David.

“Well one of you losers has to be, right? Bye, Cashew and Walnut!”

Without another word, she turned her back on the brothers, following Peeta into the kitchen. But she couldn’t prevent her small smirk at the bit of brotherly banter. She had missed it so much.

And to hear Will laughing at David was just an added bonus. She was on Peeta’s side, after all.

“How do you know their nicknames?” Peeta asked her a few moments later.

“I had a talk with Will…. Peanut.”

He chuckled at the old endearment, his hold on her hand getting stronger.

“You’re not going to forget about that, are you?”

“Potential blackmail material? Are you kidding me, Mellark?”

“Not in front of Delly, please!”

“Why not?? Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because she already knows too much. But if you do, I will tell my brothers what Finnick calls you.”

Sugar. Finnick called her Sugar. All the fucking time.

“You have a deal.”

“I knew we could come to an understanding, Everdeen. Now, cheese buns?”

Cheese buns. The memory of them made Katniss’s mouth water. The cheesy confection had been a delight to taste, her body was asking for more.

“You play dirty, Mellark.”

“And yet everybody believes I’m the good guy.”

“Katniss! How are you?” a deeper voice chimed in, as Henry turned to the pair entering the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mr. Mellark.”

Henry was wiping his hands on the towel that hung from his apron as he walked towards Peeta and Katniss. That’s when the young woman realized she still had her own hand in Peeta’s, as if it were normal. In the last months, he had held hers so many times, in so many different ways, it was almost normal to feel his palm beneath hers. But in front of his dad, that was something else. Something that could hint to being more than just friends.

And they were only friends, right?

Right.

She tried to slide her hand out of Peeta’s slowly so he wouldn’t notice, but he did. He opened his hand before walking to the ovens.

“Please, it’s Henry. Mr. Mellark was my father. So, what do you want to eat, Katniss? Can I tempt you into tasting something?”

“I don’t want to intrude…”

“Nonsense, you’re not. Peeta rarely brings friends around.”

“Dad, they’re ready. Do you want me to take them out?” Peeta called from his place in front of the ovens.

“Sure, thanks Kiddo. Don’t burn yourself this time.”

“I was twelve, Dad!”

Katniss smiled at the exchange between the two men, easygoing and natural, so much like what she had with her own father, once upon another life. The thought usually made her heart tighten a little, the pain coming back to haunt her. Today, though, even if the pain was there, it wasn’t as bad as usual. As if the injury had finally, finally, started to heal and to close, to finally leave just a scar on her heart. She could live with a scar. She would be able to move on.

Maybe she had let go of more than a balloon that night on the roof of the Arena.

“So, Katniss dear, do you want to help me?”

“You’re sure I’m not disturbing you?”

Henry put his hand on Katniss’s arm, looking straight into her gray eyes. His eyes were blue, maybe a shade lighter than Peeta’s, but they carried the same frankness and sincerity as his son’s.

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t ask if it was the case. And give me that cup, your hot chocolate must be cold now, I'll get you a fresh one.”

“Oh, there’s no need--”

“Tss, nonsense. Hot chocolate is much better hot. Take a seat dear, please. I’ll be right back. I hope you’re hungry!”

Henry turned to the stainless counter on which sat dozens of different types of pastries. At the sight of them - some she had never, ever seen before - her mouth started to water.

A noise made her look away from the delicacies displayed not too far away, making her stop half-way and climb onto the stool next to her. Peeta had put a large wooden peel into the oven, bending to retrieve whatever was in it. The move pulled the hem of his tee shirt out of his pants, fully displaying the muscles in his back - and the brand of his boxers.

Katniss couldn’t tell whether it was the heat of the ovens or the sight of Peeta’s muscled back that made her cheeks feel so warm. Or maybe those CK initials might have had something to do with it.

“Here, a new cup! And please, let me know what you think of these!” Henry Mellark was back, putting a brand new mug in front of Katniss - who had finally managed to tear her eyes from her friend’s back - along with a plate full of pastries.

“So, you have an apple pie - but not the regular kind. I wanted to try something new; tell me what you think. Oh, and this,” he pointed at another pastry, “is an orange muffin. I’ve brought some others, in case you don’t like those. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think, and do criticize if you need to!” With a pat on the arm, he left Katniss in front of too many things to eat, all buttery and sugary, still warm and so tempting.

She never was on a diet, lucky enough to have a high metabolism helping her maintain her ballerina figure. But this bakery would most probably be the end of that. She couldn’t come here on a regular basis and eat so many tempting things, or she’d risk saying goodbye to her career.

She took a bite out of the orange-flavored muffin, and muffled a sound of delight as her taste buds came in contact with the smoothness of the confection. Both the sugar and the acidity of the fruit came at the same time, fighting for dominance in her mouth, until the flavour of the cake took over, leaving the place for the potent attack of the vanilla that lingered behind.

“Oh god…” she moaned, not aware she had made any sound at all, only realizing it when she saw the two men turning their heads towards her, each of their faces bearing a different expression. While she could see Henry’s lips turn up in a smile, pride etched all over, the look on Peeta’s face was different. He was still bent at the waist, taking some bread out of the oven, but his eyes were focused on her, and Katniss could swear they had gone a shade or two darker. She felt like his prey, spellbound by his look, as if he was about to eat her.

Eat her? Where had that come from? And what did that look mean? She had never seen him looking at her like that before.

 

Many questions passed through her mind, distracting her, so that she nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her arm. A large, callused, wrinkled hand, not one she was used to, but similar in shape to the one that had made her spin and salsa the weeks before.

“I take it you like it?”

“God, yes. The vanilla is powerful, though.”

“It is. That’s because of Peeta. He likes his vanilla to surprise the customer. He does that with the cheese buns too - when the oregano takes over at the end, you never expect it. This muffin is actually his recipe. We’ve been working on it for a few weeks now. So, what do you think, really?”

What did she think? She thought that she could eat these muffins until the end of time and not get bored of them.

“I think that I’m glad I live far away from here, actually.” Henry’s forehead crinkled with concern. “Because if I was living closer, I’d come here every day to eat them, and I’m not sure I could put on my tutu on after I was done with them. They’re awesome!”

“Hear that, Peeta? I told you, you’d be much better in the bakery than on stage!”

Katniss could hear Peeta’s sigh from the other side of the room. It was surely a conversation they’d had several times over the years.

“He can’t help it,” she said. She immediately saw two sets of blue eyes move in sync towards her, Henry’s interrogative, Peeta’s expecting something. She sighed, trying to find her words. “When we’re on stage, it’s like we start living. Our hearts beat a bit faster, and it’s not because of fear. We are where we’re meant to be, giving everything we can so the audience can have a bit of reprieve from their lives, you know? If we do it well, they can have two hours where they are not at home, or at work, are not having problems. If we do our job well, they can dream, and feel. That’s what we do. Just like you do with your bread - you offer your customers something they wouldn’t have had any other way. We are dream-makers....”

When she finally stopped talking, she saw that both men were still looking at her.

Henry came closer to her, so much closer than usual, too close maybe. But before she had time to process what was happening, he was holding her in a bear hug, whispering in her ear.

“I know, dear, I know he only lives when he’s on stage… but I’m an old man, and I always wanted the three of them to take after me. But he belongs to the scene, I know that. Thank you for defending him. He’s lucky to have you.” He held her closer for a few more seconds before pulling away, but not before kissing her cheek gently.

“You have a very good friend in her, Peet. Keep her around.”

Katniss lifted her eyes to find Peeta staring straight at her, his eyes again a shade darker than usual.

“I have every intention of it.”

His voice had dropped an octave too.

It was decidedly too warm in the bakery.

 

\--

Her stomach full, and with promises made to come back whenever she wanted - if possible the next Sunday to taste the new version of the apple pie - Katniss finally arrived home later than she had planned. She opened her laptop, saw that she had three missed Skype calls from her sister, and realized that she had missed their scheduled appointment. Checking her phone, she also saw the missed texts and calls.

“Shit.”

She quickly logged into her account, clicking with a sigh on her sister’s picture. Her call was immediately accepted, Prim looking relieved to see her.

“I was started to get worried, Kat!”

“I was out for breakfast.”

“Only for breakfast? It’s almost 2 PM. I bet you had an interesting evening, sis. Care to share?”

On the screen in front of her, Prim winked, and it took Katniss a few seconds to catch on to the innuendo behind the movement.

“What? Oh, god, Prim! For fuck’s sake! I only danced yesterday evening. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Danced vertically or horizontally?”

“Prim!!!”

“Okay, okay, I’m shutting up. So, how was the Boléro?”

“It was… quick?” Prim’s face fell at her sister’s words. ”No, I mean, time went by so quickly I didn’t realize it was over until it was, you know? My mind was somewhere else entirely.”

“Oh, no…” Prim cringed.

“But it was a good thing... I….” Katniss lowered her eyes from her sister’s piercing gaze, an ocean away. “I was lost in the memories of when I started ballet.”

“The pink tutu?”

Katniss nodded, amazed her sister would remember that detail.

“You remember?”

“You had it in your room for years, Katniss. Always touching the skirt, when you came in or out of your bedroom, I bet you didn’t even notice you were doing it. I always knew you would be a dancer, you had so many stars in your eyes… and the first time you wore the pointes… you wanted to go to school wearing them, even if your toes were bleeding.”

“Yeah, but Dad told me I should keep them for the big moments, that they were precious shoes....”

“He was right. I still got them, you know?”

“Got what?”

“Your first pointes.”

“I threw them away.”

This had always been one of her biggest regrets. When they had to sell the house to go live in Panem, Katniss had thrown away all her firsts - first love, first home, first tutu, first pointes.

“I couldn’t save the tutu, a little girl had picked it up from the thrift shop. But I saved the pointes.”

“You bought them?”

“I did, and I kept them.”

“Prim!”

“What?”

“Why?” Katniss was doing her very best to prevent the tears forming in her eyes from falling down her cheeks, as she whispered to her sister.

“Because they’re you. They were the things that made you so happy. It was as if by letting them go, you had let go of your happiness. So hanging on to them was for me a reminder you had smiled once.”

“Prim….”

“But now you’re smiling again, Kat.” Prim leaned closer to the screen of the computer, as if to whisper a secret. “So whatever’s making you smile, keep it. Or him. Or her. But please, please; keep smiling.”

Katniss didn’t care anymore that tears were falling, as only Prim could see them. There was still something she needed to know.

“Where are they?”

“Well, hidden of course. I didn’t wanted you to find them too soon.”

“Will you tell me now?”

“No. I will give them to you when I’m back.”

Katniss lifted her head at her sister’s words. “You’re coming back? When?”

“When you’re done growing up. Soon, I hope.” Prim looked at her watch, and on the other side of the Atlantic, Katniss could hear a voice that wasn’t at all feminine.

“Oh, god, Prim, you have company!”

“One of us should have fun, sister. Life’s short. I’ve got to go, we’ll talk soon?”

Without another word, the little blonde cut the conversation, leaving Katniss alone, facing an empty Skype screen.

“Prim! I can’t believe you hung up on me!”

 

A loud meow echoed in the otherwise calm apartment, an obvious call to the young woman who was seconds ago on the screen, signaling to Katniss that the Father of All Evils hadn’t gotten his meal in a while.

“See, worthless cat, not even a word for you. All your mistress cares is about is the French pair of buttocks in her bed right now. And she says I’m the one who needs to grow up?”

Another sound escaped the cat, obviously exasperated to have to wait such a long time before eating. Katniss stood up, sighing, and went into the kitchen to grab the cat’s kibble bag from one of the cupboards.

“Grow up, grow up! What does she mean? I’m older than she is!” She started pacing the kitchen, the bag in hand. “I was the one working for her to go to college! I know how hard life is, thank you very much. I don’t need Miss Primrose to scold me as if I were a five year old kid! Don’t you agree?”

The cat wasn’t even looking at her, insensitive to her rant, his eyes focused on the Friskies bag in Katniss’s hands.

“Of course you don’t understand or care, you’re a cat! A stupid cat!”

She dropped a few handfuls of kibble in the cat’s bowl and shoved the bag back inside the cupboard, far from the reach of the devil’s spawn. Her anger at her sister still present. Prim was far away in another country, studying what she had always wanted to, having the time of her life, getting some hot sex. And here she was, just happy to have danced. Was her life such a waste? When would she be having the time of her life? She couldn’t even remember the last time she had hot sex, and was pretty sure that by now, her little sister had seen more penises than she had.

Wasn’t that pitiful?

Maybe it was time for her to decide what to do with the rest of her life.


	18. Step 18: Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How about a little bit of Finnick? A little walk in the park, and an evening watching DWTS ?  
> then turn in :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week, I really need to say this chapter wouldn't have been published without @dandelion-sunset. I was all set to not ask my awesome betas to well, beta as it was Christmas and my bday too and report this chapter a week.
> 
> But Incredible Dandelion-Sunset took it on her own and beta-ed it.
> 
>  
> 
> And I'm not forgetting you, dear @akai-echo, whose hands and mind create magic with the image :)
> 
>  
> 
> So thank you from the bottom of my heart to these two incredible persons :)  
> Please do not hesitate to leave a comment or a review - after all, today is my birthday ;)

She had never noticed there was so much to do in Panem.

Of course, she was used to the big city life, including running after the tube that would leave just as she arrived, or the rush of clients in her once-beloved Starbucks.  
Of course, Katniss knew about the traffic in the streets - the reason she never bought a car, relying on the huge network of public transportation.

But she never knew it could be this peaceful, or that she could just enjoy a walk in the park, thinking of nothing, wandering around the paved alleys, stopping under the willow trees, taking useless pictures with her phone that she would share with nobody.

And why wouldn’t I? she thought suddenly. Of course she had a Facebook - created under Prim’s pressure so they would “keep in touch” while she was abroad - but she rarely used it, the few times she logged in was to check on her sister.

Maybe it was time to be herself.

“No matter what they say,” she sing-songed, remembering the song from a century ago. Maybe it was time to live up to Sting’s words.

Searching through her maze of apps, she finally located the blue button before clicking on it. A lot of red appeared on the small icons at the bottom of her screen, signalling to her she had a lot of notifications, or people requesting to be their friend. Wanting to be in contact with her. Her. Not her sister. She looked up, spotting a nearby bench facing a large pond stuck just under a willow tree. She walked to it, sat down, and readied herself to start understanding how to use this bloody Facebook thing.

She clicked on the “notifications” first, as the sign 50+ was showing on the little dot that looked like the earth. What could they be, she wondered before following her curiosity.

She laughed as she saw the colorful icons, all the same, lining up. Candy Crush. Of course, Prim had been an addict to this game for years now, begging Katniss to log into her account to give her lives or whatever else she needed.

She went back to her main page or whatever it was called, looking at the number twelve, located on the friends requests icon.

She started to make a list in her head of who these people could be. Madge, for sure. But that was all she could think of. Who would care to request her as a friend? Who would be interested in her?

Gathering her courage, she clicked on the icon.

Madge Undersee - the smiling face of her friend appeared on the screen, her mouth hidden by a large bouquet of daisies, her favorite flower. Katniss could remember the day Derek took this picture at a picnic they all went to, a few months ago. She clicked on Accept.

Delly Cartwright - of course. Katniss should’ve thought of the smiling woman, who wanted to be friends with about everybody. She accepted her request.

Gale Hawthorne - she nearly dropped her phone, seeing the name of her former best friend shining on the screen. His picture showed a smiling man, tall, handsome, but with a wide grin like Katniss had never seen before. Accept too. Maybe it was time to talk to one another again, after such a long time.

Effie Trinket - Katniss looked twice at the name. Effie Trinket was requesting her as a friend? She would have to look into this more closely.

Other names appeared on her screen, some she knew either from the Ballet or the Arena, some she had no clue who they were until she reached the last request.

Peeta Mellark.

Of course Peeta would want to befriend her on the only social media she was on. Why was she surprised he requested her? They were friends, after all, that much had been stated between them, he was the kind of man that had a zillion friends on his FB and cared for every single one of them. Would he notice if she declined his request? Why was she thinking of declining his request?

Katniss took a deep breath before clicking on “accept.” Yes, they were friends after all, and besides, she needed more friends, right? Right. But maybe not Effie. It was way too soon.

She resumed her walk, taking her time to look at the trees around her, realizing how she missed them. Having grown up in a little town literally surrounded by woods, she had often enjoyed long hikes on Sundays with her Dad - the other Everdeen women weren’t as attracted by nature as she and her father were.

The woods always reminded her of the good old times, when there were no worries, when life was simpler, when she had dreams of being a ballerina, of having a life with a husband and their two kids playing in the backyard with their dog, of being happy.

She came closer to the side of the path, where a willow tree was spreading its large branches, close enough for her to put her hand out to touch it and feel the bark under her palm. The contact brought back memories, of afternoons spent under the same kind of tree in the backyard of her childhood home, her mother reading, her head on her father’s lap, when she had been playing with Prim under the foliage, pretending they had built their little homes inside the comfort of the tree.

Somehow, along the way, she had lost her laugh, lost her smile, lost that little spark of life that made her happy.

And somehow, along this path of her life, she had found it back, dancing like she had always wanted to.

Maybe it wasn’t too late for her dreams to come back? Maybe it was time to have new dreams, maybe not as idyllic as her childhood’s, but her own, grown-up dreams.

Maybe it was time to start flying.

Katniss let her hand rest along the trunk of the tree a little longer, feeling her pulse soothing, progressively going slower, as if it was following the rhythm of the branches of the willow tree. She was almost afraid to let go, to let this connection to her memories fly away, into the nothingness of oblivion.

Somehow, fate decided otherwise.

Her phone started to chime, the sweet jazz melody startling her from her reverie, from the memories of those who left, who only came back for a few minutes.

Without thinking, Katniss searched through her pockets for her phone, finally extracting and opening it. A smile formed as she saw the name on the screen, flashing just for her.

“Hey Peeta, did I forget something at the bakery?”

It had only been a few hours between her visit at Mellark’s and her walk in the park. The latter, out of pure guilt, due to the sheer amount of pastries she ate in the morning, feeling the exercise would be needed to get rid of the extra sugar. And butter. And chocolate. Whatever.

She wondered how Henry Mellark would react to her showing up at his bakery every Sunday morning, leaving without paying - because when four Mellark men insisted that you should not pay, even if you were the most strong-willed person in the world, you ended up not paying. She had tried.

Because she could get used to living off delicacies like that - too bad it was on the other side of town, really - or maybe it was better, she thought, considering the added weight she would end up having to lose if it were just down the street.

“No, I don’t think so?”

“Oh, okay, I thought that was why you were calling.”

“No, not at all actually. I was wondering….” he hesitated, and Katniss heard him take a deep breath. Was he going to ask her out? What would she say? Could she accept? Did she want more? Why was she acting like a 16-year-old teenage girl? “It’s Finnick’s first show on Dancing with the Stars tomorrow. We’re watching it with everybody, you know, Delly, Jo, all the gang, and I was wondering if you’d want to join us? Obviously, Annie will be there too.”

Scratch that, it wasn’t a date. Katniss breathed, her thoughts lost between relief and something else. Deception? She couldn’t label it right now, not really, or maybe she didn’t want to.

“Katniss?”

“Yeah, oh, sorry. So, Finnick tonight? ”

“Not tonight, it’s tomorrow. You could sleepover here if you want, I live closer to the National.”

Wow - WOW. What was he implying right now? Sleeping in his house?

She couldn’t find the words in her mind to try and explain herself.

“Shit, that came out wrong. I mean, Dels and Jo are staying here so they won’t have to go back to their place later, and well, I thought that maybe if you don’t want to go back all the way to your place you could stay here too. It’s up to you, really. If you want to, you show up with your bag, you do whatever you want, okay?” Peeta finally stopped talking, taking a deep breath, giving Katniss the time to think.

Did she want to go to a party? Not really.

“I’m not sure, you know? I mean, are you sure your friends want to see me?”

Yeah, that was a good excuse. She didn’t want to interfere in his life, not trusting herself enough to test the limits of their newfound friendship.

“Delly suggested that I call you, so I guess she wants you to come.” He paused, as if he was trying to find the right words. “Listen, Katniss, really, do how you feel. If you want to come tomorrow, please do. I’ll text you my address, just show up if you want to.”

“So you don’t want me to come over?” her words were raw, rather than what she wanted to really say. She couldn’t keep them in. She had her explanation on why he didn’t insist on her coming around.

Katniss distinctly heard him sigh.

“I never said that. I would love for you to come and enjoy an evening with us. Annie and Delly would be happy to have you around. Jo wouldn’t say it, but she would like it too.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, Peeta. You?”

“I would like for you to come. But only if you want to.”

She didn’t know.

“I don’t know, Peeta, really. It will depend on how the day is tomorrow, you know?”

Of course he knew. He went through the crazy schedules at the National too, even if it was years ago.

“Yeah, I remember. In any case, feel free to drop by if you want. It could be fun to see Finnick with stage fright, right? Imagine if he gets a Jive as a first dance… “

“Or a waltz.”

Peeta chuckled.

“Finnick in a white tie! Oh, I hope he does get a waltz, now!” he added, laughing.

“Could be fun…” She could almost see the always laughing man being all serious in a penguin suit, turning his partner on the hardwood floor.

“Anyways - I wanted to let you know you would be welcomed. So, whatever you choose is fine by me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, I will leave you now. I’m sure you have things to do.” Peeta breathed out, uncertainty in his voice.

“Yeah, I guess you have too.”

“Not really, just going to chill and relax in front of Netflix.”

“Oh yeah, what will you be watching?”

Katniss had started walking, taking her time to look at the trees and flowers ready to bloom everywhere. Spring was a breath away, nature taking over the remnants of the winter still sprawling on the ground.

It was way later, when her battery had finally given up, that Katniss realized she had spent more than two hours talking to Peeta.

Although to her, it seemed only a few minutes had passed.

\-----

“We’re ready? Five, six, seven, eight.”

At the claps of hands from the Ballet master, the Thirteen Princesses started their own routine on the stage. This Monday was the first day of the Firebird rehearsals, with all the cast gathered, to assess if the staging chosen would actually work on a full scene with the full ensemble. Better check that before the premiere, right?

The numbers weren’t done in a particular order. Right now, the notable dancers and some of the Corps de ballet who were dancing the Princesses were on stage, practising their scene together. Katniss was the next to be on the stage, to rehearse her Dance of the Firebird, her first big solo. She could feel the familiar roots of fear of failing starting to creep up her body. She finally had the big role in this production, the one usually reserved for the Etoiles or first dancers, the ones whose names shone on the presentation of the Ballet.

Katniss didn’t know how she would do it. How she could do it.

She felt a presence coming up next to her, the stature of a man standing beside her as she stood, watching, hidden by the backstage curtains.

“They’re good, these girls, right?” her mentor muttered in his beard, his eyes fixed on the dancers.

“They are… “ She stared at the young women, moving with grace around the scene, picking flowers or pretending to laugh. She couldn’t help but compare herself with them. How her toned skin was a stark contrast to theirs, how her hair were reluctant to stay in the dancing bun they had to wear for everyday practices, how elegant they were while dancing. She had to tone down the voices telling her they deserved to be the Firebird instead of her.

“But you’re better. I knew it, and you proved it to everybody last Saturday. You weren’t dancing the Bolero, Everdeen. You were the dance.”

Haymitch’s eyes were still on the young women, making their piqués and arabesques on stage.

“They dance. They don’t get that to give a performance you have to dig deeper. You have to have suffered, and loved, and laughed, and cried. They are too young. You’re almost there, Sweetheart.”

Katniss was speechless. Usually, Haymitch’s words were to make her bend lower, try harder. He wasn’t one for compliments or kind speeches, rather known for his sarcasm and irony. She turned to face him, trying to find any kind of smirk on his tired face, trying to discover whether he was making fun of her or not, trying to find out whether he was pushing her or not.

When his eyes found hers, she knew. He was serious.

“What do you mean, almost?” she asked, trying to hide the tremors in her voice.

“Finnick did a good job with you. He brought out the best of you he could give. I hope you know that.”

“Finnick?” Didn’t Haymitch know that for months now, Peeta had been the one training her, dancing with her, teaching her to be free?

“Yeah, you know the guy? Tall, handsome, toned, red hair?”

“Oh, that guy. I wouldn’t know, he left for California ages ago.” Didn’t Haymitch know that ? Was he even keeping in touch with Finnick?

“You’re serious? What’s he doing in California? Who’s been dancing with you?”

“Yes. Tv Show. Peeta.”

“A TV show? Finnick?” His right hand started scratching his beard, the way he always did when he was thinking. “Makes sense after all. He’s made for the spotlight. I hope he didn’t go into shit like DWTS at last.”

Katniss started to chuckle.

“Shit like that, actually.”

“Glorydamn!” He shook his head in disbelief, as if his worst fear had apparently just been confirmed.

“And it starts tonight.”

“I’m never watching this show, you know that?”

“Why not?”

“It’s not dance!”

“It’s another kind of dancing, right? So I might watch.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll fall asleep on your couch before the credits will have rolled.”

“I’m watching it with friends, so no.”

“Good gracious! Holy Mary Mother of God! You have friends? How much do you pay them per month to bear with your sunny disposition?”

“Har, har.” Katniss looked at the stage, seeing the director - Caesar Whateverhisnamewas - talking to the young women. Soon it will be her turn to dance, soon she will be on the stage, performing her solo. She made her ankles turn, to be sure they would be warm enough, carefully adjusted her thin tulle skirt, before she faced Haymitch once more. After all, he hadn’t answered her yet.

“What did you mean by “almost”? I’m almost there? What more do I lack?”

His eyes, a pale blue that could border on icy when he was particularly unhappy, stared at her in the dark of the backstage.

“Love, Sweetheart. No,” he said, raising his hand to stop her from talking. “I know you love your family, your sister, whatever. Real love. Heart-whelming love, burning passion, all that jazz. The day you’ll have that, you’ll be unstoppable. As radiant as the sun.”

He moved again, facing the scene, looking at the Princesses chatting on their way out.

“Now, dance, Katniss. Be the fire the bird needs. Go shine,” he muttered, under his breath, barely audible.

So she danced.

 

\--

She really didn’t know whether she should go inside or not. Or maybe call? Or not.

She was standing in front of Peeta’s building, her large bag on her shoulder, still wondering what in the name of Buttercup she was doing there.

She could have easily pretended she didn’t have a rehearsal at 7:30 a.m. the next morning, and that the thought of sleeping thirty more minutes wasn’t really appealing. Or said she had other plans with a friend, or just didn’t text back saying she would be there around seven.

She could have.

Yet, she didn’t.

She had texted Peeta back when she arrived at her apartment, after an exhausting session with Caesar PainInHerAss - she decided was his official name - because apparently not wearing a tutu at a rehearsal was the dance equivalent of a zombie apocalypse. Apparently he couldn't see the fluff of the tulle on the stage, which ruined the whole rehearsal.

Men. She was afraid the costumes would be changed from the elegant skirts Cinna had designed to some classical tutus whatnothingies Caesar seemed to favor.

Anyways. She didn’t want to think about the crazy director for now, but didn’t want to take the last step towards the building in front of her either. She couldn’t figure out what she would say to everybody who was there, didn’t even know who was there.

No, this was a bad idea. A very bad idea. She would go home, come up with whatever explanation for not coming, to end up on the couch watching Finnick make a fool of himself with whatever starlet of real-tv girl he would be paired with.

Then go to bed, her own bed, not to a pajama party organised by a bachelor. Nope. Home it was. Right now, even, before anybody could notice her sneaking away.

“Katniss?!”

Too late.

Delly was looking at her, amazement clearly etched on her face. Before Katniss could react, she found herself in one of Delly’s trademark hugs, the ones you can’t get yourself out of even if you wanted to.

“I’m so glad you’re coming! Peeta was afraid to ask you, you know?”

She didn’t.

“Why was he afraid?” Katniss asked, surprised.

“Because he’s Peeta, silly. Now come, or Jo will have eaten anything!” Delly laughed as she slinged a hand over Katniss’s shoulder, leaning closer to the young brunette. “You’re staying the night too? It’s fun, right? A girls’ night out!”

“A girls’ night out?”

“Yeah, it’s like a bachelorette party before my bachelorette party!” Delly typed a code that opened the door, taking Katniss with her as they both walked inside the building. “Isn’t that great?”

“I can barely contain my excitement…”

Delly was such a gentle and kind soul, she would never ever spot sarcasm, even if it was waving at her with pompoms.

“I know right? But, wait, you totally have to come to my bachelorette party! We’re friends, now! You’ll see this will be amazing! You don’t mind a few steps, do you? Peet lives on the first floor, and I need the exercise for, you know, the wedding dress!” Delly pointed her fingers to her backside, that came face to face with Katniss’s eyes as the other woman started climbing up the stairs.

As if Katniss needed the visual right now, when all she wanted was to run away to her apartment, curl under her heavy quilt, and hope for sleep to come quickly. Only today, the odds weren’t in her favor, having decided she would spend the night with other human beings.

One thing lingered in her mind, though. Delly had called her her friend. Were they? Was it that easy to build a friendship? For the blond woman, it seemed so. A few gatherings here and there, an evening out, and that was it.

“We’re friends?”

Delly stopped mid-step, as if Katniss’s words had shot her through the heart.

“Of course we are? Do you doubt it?”

“I… I don’t know, I never thought about it…”

Stepping down a stair, Delly found herself face to face with Katniss.

“You’re kind, you’re funny, you dance. You do my friend so much good, Katniss. My best friend’s friends are my friends too, you know? So yes, you’re my friend. Not because of Peeta, though, or because of Madge. I would have wanted to be your friend anyway.”

“Wow…”

Katniss was speechless. She wasn’t used to people talking freely to her without any filter, just saying what they had to, bluntly. It was refreshing in a way, to be faced with what people thought of her, really thought of her.

“So, are we, Katniss?”

Were they? Would it be difficult to be friends with someone like Delly Cartwright? Probably. She was all Katniss wasn’t. Cheerful, curvy, kind, and chatty.

But maybe it was time to get more people into her life.

Katniss gathered all her courage as she prepared to answer Delly.

“We’re already Facebook friends. Doesn’t it make it official?”

“It does! You’re right - I’m glad we’re friends! Oh, what do you say we go shopping on Saturday? I could use a few dresses for my honeymoon?”

Katniss’s very first impulse was to say - or rather shout - an astounding NO to her new friend, but something stopped her. Something coming from deep within her she wasn’t sure she could name. Something that made her suddenly want to go out, see people, laugh, and live. Even shop for dresses.

“I’m rehearsing Saturday, we have that big ballet coming up.”

“Oh, that makes total sense! Am I silly! We’ll go another time!”

This was exactly who Delly was. Kind, understanding, never wanting anything for herself, never thinking badly of anyone. Even if she was disappointed, she never showed it.

“I can be free at 4 p.m., though? I could use a few dresses too.”

Delly’s smile reached her eyes.

“Oh, this is awesome! You’ll have to give me your number okay?”

Katniss nodded. Making friends was easy when they were as kind as Delly.

The blond woman finally reached the first floor, navigating easily between the doors until she reached the one at the end of the corridor, and knocked on the wood. Katniss remained on the side of it, almost hidden in the shadows.

The door opened a crack until Peeta’s mop of blond hair came out of the doorjamb, his eyes spotting Delly immediately.

“Dels! Yeah, you’re here! Jo’s been waiting for you - says I’m not enough of a girl for her.”

“I bet she has!” Delly laughed.

“Hum, Delly? You didn’t see anyone down there?”

“Of course I did. Katniss was there.”

“What? She was? She’s not there anymore?”

“Of course she isn’t, dummy. She’s right next to you! I wonder how you didn’t see her!”

“She is?” Peeta turned his head, taking in Katniss’s form against the wall, with her bag on her shoulder. “Katniss! Come in, I’m so glad you could come, really.” His face just lit up at the sight of her.

“And me? I’m not allowed to come in?” Delly pretended to whine as she playfully hit Peeta’s arm.

“Please, ladies, both of you, come in, before Jo has drunk all the Pina Colada!”

“Peeta…” Delly had stopped in her tracks, a scowl apparent on her face, looking straight into Peeta’s eyes.

“Virgin, Dels. I know.”

“You’d better.” Delly patted her friend’s arm, kindly, before coming in, leaving Katniss face to face with her host for the night.

“Well…” Peeta started, his hand going to his hair, betraying his nervousness. “Well…”

“It’s okay, Peeta, I can go back. I don’t mind.”

Well, she minded, but wasn’t about to admit it. She minded making the half hour trip across town for nothing, she minded being sent home, not wanted.

“No! Of course not! You don’t go back! I’m just surprised. I never thought I’d see you with Dels. I was waiting for you to call me to let you in. Come in, please. Please.”

 

Standing aside to let her pass, he added as she came into his apartment, “I made cheese buns. Just in case you would come.”

\--

Katniss was exhausted.

Maybe more than after a full day of rehearsals, followed by a complete show, cooling time and stretching for hours.

Yet, she had done none of that. She had just spent an evening drinking virgin Pina Colada with three crazy people, watching a TV show that featured shirtless Greek Gods moving their bodies to pop music, reminding her of so many almost similar nights with her sister. Only this time, there wasn’t the quiet and calm she was used to, rather whistles and shouts when Finnick came in to perform his cha-cha with his star - a young actress, famous for playing the sister to the heroine in the latest dystopian movie - getting a big round of applause for his debuts. Nobody could say it was because of the couple’s performance or by the display of Finnick’s torso under his opened white shirt.

She didn’t know who was the worst at commenting, Johanna or Delly. They were always bickering about such a step or whatever, who was hottest between Maksim Whateverhisnamewas or Derek Thingy, coming to the conclusion that in the end, Finnick was.

They were, of course, totally unfair when it came to judging the performances, rating their friend above the others, naturally, and were completely disappointed when Finnick only ranked fourth place out of twelve. The excuses were all over the room, listing that of course Cha-cha wasn’t Finn’s speciality, far from it, that he would kill the competition when tango or paso would come.

Only Peeta remained relatively silent, observing the competition from his seat next to the couch Katniss was sharing with the two other women, standing up to go fetch drinks or something to eat (these little thingies he made were just delicious). He cheered on Finnick like the rest of the group, getting into an intense conversation about side-steps that weren’t really on time, blaming it on the inexperienced partner that still needed a ton of practice.

When the end of the show arrived, they all waited until the next week’s theme was announced - Music in Movies - to start making elaborate guesses on what music Finnick would get, and what kind of dance to do with it. All were hoping against a jive, but were firmly pro-waltz to see Finn in a suit with a closed shirt. They even tried reaching the hero of the day on the phone, but were only able to leave him a message. Katniss was asked if she wanted to participate in it, opting for a “next time” instead of agreeing.

Right now, she was lying alone in an unfamiliar bed, trying to let the exhaustion she felt in all her body change into a good night of sleep. Peeta, being the gentleman he was, had prepared the guest room that Delly and Johanna immediately claimed, leaving Katniss the master bedroom, as the young man had beforehand stated the couch was his for the night, despite all her protests to not sleep in his room.  
Yet, here she was, under blue sheets, wondering how she could find her rest. Maybe she should have gone home, to her bed, to have a good night of rest before another long day of rehearsals.

The alarm on the bed stand didn’t seem to pass the time. The numbers didn’t want to change, seemingly locked in another universe where it was 1:26 AM forever and the rest. She would need to rise before 7 (and yes was very aware it was only five hours and thirty-four minutes later thank you very much) to get to the Ballet at 8:30 for her first rehearsals. Damned schedules.

She turned on her right side, hoping for the tenth time these past ten minutes to find some kind of rest, when she heard it. A raw sound, finishing into a shout, screaming a “NO” Katniss was sure resonated through the whole apartment.

Years of waking up to take care of either her mother or sister, or at a time both, had her running out of the bed before she even realized it. Her brains had done the job already, analyzing the shout as the probable consequence of a nightmare, having heard her share of desperate cries in the dead of the night.

Katniss found the source of the shout on the couch, completely twisted in the blankets he was using, a mask of pain on his face, whispering “nononono” over and over again as sweat was dripping from his face.

She tried to loosen the grip he had on the blankets, but the man was strong.

She tried to wake him up by shaking him up as strongly as she could, but it didn’t work.

She tried to say his name over and over again to make him come back, but it didn’t work.

So she tried what used to work when Prim had nightmares.

Coming closer to his head, she started singing in a whisper.

A song she thought she’d forgotten, a reminder of her youth, when her dad played the guitar by the fire

“Dark was the night, and cold the ground

On which the Lord was laid;

His sweat like drops of blood ran down;

In agony he prayed.

"Father, remove this bitter cup,

If such Thy sacred will;

If not, content to drink it up

Thy pleasure I fulfill."

She would never know whether it was the words, the lyrics, or just the end of Peeta’s nightmare that brought him back to the real world, that had him opening his eyes, full of tears, before he hugged her against him, whispering “thank you” over and over again.

Overwhelmed. That’s how she felt. The feeling of arms around her, so foreign a few months ago was slowly beginning to be something she wanted more. But was it the feeling of any arms, or the feeling of these precise ones? Was she getting used to Peeta’s embrace? Could she ever get used to it?

Too many questions, too early in the morning. Her brain might not know what to do, but her body did.

She never saw Johanna and Delly looking at the hugging pair from their spot in the corridor, before they retreated back to the room they shared, knowing smiles on their faces.

“I’m sorry I woke you up, Katniss… It’s...”

“Don’t worry. Was it a nightmare?”

Peeta sighed, extracting himself to sit on the couch.

“Yeah. They come and go, there’s nothing I can do about them.”

“I know. I get them too.”

“You have?”

She just shrugged. How could she explain that on some nights, her dreams were filled with car accidents, or her mom hanging from the roof? Or Prim dying in whatever means her brain had decided to? Because obviously, everybody she loved left her at one point or another. The only one sticking around was the awful ball of fur, merely because he was interested by the food she was keeping for him. Great track record.

She felt her eyes moisten at the thought. No, no tears tonight. She needed to get her emotions in control quickly before breaking down - again. She needed to move on now, to build her life up, not linger on a past that she wouldn’t be able to change anyways.

She sucked a breath in, allowing the flow of air to act as a balm on her hurting soul. Yes. She would move on from now on. Stronger.

“I do. They come and go. Don’t let them take you over, though.”

Her eyes searched his, trying to read into them, to see the depths of his hurt or his fears, trying to decipher the mystery alphabet that he was.

“It’s just some nights...” he started, trying to tear his eyes from hers.

“They don’t want to go away,” she added, whispering.

He nodded, almost shyly, allowing Katniss to see glimpses of the little boy he could have been so many years ago.

Katniss had never been good with words, she was much more versed into action. This night though, she knew she needed to find words to help Peeta. To help her friend.

“I’ve had them since my dad died. Since my mother faded away from life, since I had to start taking care of my sister in their place. They never left, ever, and I doubt they will one day.” She stood up from the couch, slowly, attracted by the beam of moonlight coming through the windows. Maybe she didn’t want him to look too much into her own soul. “They come at the most unexpected moments. Mostly when you’re on the verge of forgetting about them.They sneak back to remind us what we went through, I guess? As if we could forget them…”

She was staring at the street below, sad and empty, only lit by the gloom of the lampposts here and there, forgotten. The memories of her own nightmares, horrible visions were forever stuck in her mind, forever engraved.

“But that doesn’t mean we should let them take control, right?” Peeta’s voice came from behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body on her back, as his two arms snucke around her waist, aiming for the windows.

She froze, the unexpected move startling her totally. What was Peeta doing? Why were his arms were around her? Was he going to kiss her? Would she let him? Why was she thinking of Peeta kissing her?

But the hands didn’t stop to circle or hug her from behind. Sliding a bit more, they went directly to the windows, opening it slightly, immediately letting a bit of chilled air into the apartment. Goosebumps erupted on Katniss’s skin, still she didn’t want to move from the warmth of the non-embrace she was in, bathing in it, relishing in it.

Until only the cold air of the night remained, hands, arms, and body having stepped away.

“I sleep better with the windows open.”

She heard herself whisper,“Then go back to sleep. Good night, Peeta.”

“Good night, Katniss.”

Nodding, she stepped away from the windows, moving towards the corridor where his bedroom door was, and opened it slowly. Only then did she hear him slumping on the couch.

Only then did she dare look into the living room.

She didn’t expect him to be looking back at her, nor did she see the smile cracking her lips.


	19. Step 19: Purple Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Katniss to take a step forward ... but will she ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First - Happy New Year 2017 to every single one of you :)
> 
> My deepest thanks to xerxia and dandelion-sunset for taking the time to beta this chapter.
> 
> To akai-echo, whose talent shines on everything she does - you're awesome :)
> 
> This chapter is called "Purple Rain", because a big part of it was written the day Prince passed away.
> 
> In memory.
> 
> If you liked, please do tell :) I thrive for comments :)

She could function on five hours of sleep. Four, on the other hand, wasn't enough for her. After a two hour backbreaking masterclass with Haymitch that morning, a rehearsal for one of her solos in Firebird, and before a whole afternoon in tutu listening to Caesar Countertop or whatever his name was, Katniss just felt completely exhausted. Not the usual tiredness of too many hours of dance. No, a total exhaustion, taking over her mind and body.

She just craved solitude, worn out clothes with holes in them, a cup of hot chocolate, a bath, and nothing more.

Well, maybe two weeks of holidays would do her good too, preferably far away from everything. She was thinking New Zealand, maybe. Yeah, that would be good.

But then again, quite impossible.

She honestly didn't know how she would bear the long rehearsal in the afternoon without sleep. She had two hours before she had to show up on stage, and would be damned if she wasn't going to spend at least half of it in Morpheus's arms.

She snuck into the cafeteria, grabbed some lunch to take away, and was planning her next move (meaning the place where she would be able to nap) when she felt a hand on her shoulder, startling her.

"Kitty Kat! Just the person I wanted to talk to!"

"Thresh, Hi… Just grabbing some lunch, I'm in a hurry…."

"Yeah, I'll be quick. There's this show in town, La Vida Loca, and well, some of us are planning to go to. I thought maybe you could to join us? If you want?"

She looked at her former partner in awe. What was it this week, with everybody wanting her to be part of something? First Delly with her shopping spree (that she was going to cancel, no way she would be alive enough on Saturday to go through a whole shopping mall), then Johanna, and now Thresh, all in the span of twelve hours? What was happening?

"Me? You want me to come with you?"

"Well, yes, you. You're the only one named Katniss around here, right?"

"Yeah, it's such a popular name."

"So, will you come?"

"Maybe, depends when it is? And I kind of already saw it… twice."

"I didn't know you liked that kind of music and dance!"

"It sort of just… happened?"

"Yeah, well, we will probably go after Firebird is done with, but the show is already completely booked for the next weeks, so we have to plan ahead?"

"I'll let you know as soon as you come up with a date, okay?"

"Right-o! Well, I will leave you with your sandwich!"

"Yeah…" Thresh turned away, after a pat on Katniss's arm, when an idea crossed her mind.

"Thresh!"

"Yeah?"

She came closer to him, not wanting to be overheard by the other dancers around.

"You don't happen to know a quiet place? To, you know?"

The tall man's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Katniss Everdeen! I'd never thought one day you would ask me for a place to have a quickie! Who's the lucky guy?"

"NO!" she shouted, her cheeks blazing, desperate. "I need to sleep a bit, or else I will crumble this afternoon."

"Oh, so that's what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Thresh, please, it's not for that!" Anger was starting to flow through her system, climbing slowly but steadily along her spine.

"I know, Kat, I know. There's the Boudoir - nobody ever goes there. Fourth floor, fifth door on the right."

"Thank you!" As Thresh turned to leave for good this time, Katniss almost stopped him again to ask how he knew about the room.

Then again, maybe asking wasn't such a good idea.

She found the room easily, lost between costumes storage and the janitor's closet. No wonder nobody - or very few people - knew about it. It was quiet, away from the usual ruckus of the ballet. It was just missing a chair or a couch or something to lay on for a good nap.

That wasn't about to discourage Katniss. She had slept on the floor too many nights to count now, was used to the stiffness of the hardwood on her back, the soreness of her muscles after a few hours of bad rest.

Taking her sweatshirt and coat out of her sport bags, she made a makeshift pillow in the darkest corner of the room, as far away from the windows as possible, putting her phone near her head, alarm set for an hour and a half later.

Turning on her right side, she closed her eyes, hoping for sleep to come quickly.

Unfortunately, her mind decided otherwise. She couldn't stop thinking about the night before, at Peeta's. She would never have guessed he was plagued by nightmares too. He was so full of light, she wouldn't have guessed he had a darker side. Yet he didn't walk away from them, sharing his fear with her, while it was the first time she actually let herself talk about it with someone other than Prim. She couldn't explain why it was so easy, so natural to confide in him.

Sure, in the weeks, months they had danced together, they had also built a friendship, she realized, built on trust, on dance, and on moments spent talking quietly. Built also on the smell of hot chocolate in a bakery, a concussion, a night dancing in a club to latin music. Memories of that night passed through her mind, hands sliding, bright eyes, sweat, spinning, dipping, music, heels, hot breath, not enough air, dance, dance, dance…

Yeah, she had built a bond with Peeta. He had insinuated himself in her life, snuck through her walls. No, sneaking wasn't the right word. She let him in, Katniss realized, she let down her barriers, one after another. She tried to shut him out, at first, but he was a wave, tirelessly coming back, lingering, testing her boundaries before retreating, and trying again. Slowly, day after day, dance after dance, he tore her walls down.

Until last night, when she was the one to come to him when he needed comfort. She didn't understand why neither Johanna nor Delly had come out of the room they were sharing to help him until the moment she came back into his room, and saw the blond woman nodding to her, a sly smile on her face, mouthing "thank you". That's when Katniss had realized she never heard Delly coming into the living room, lost as she was in her words, her memories, and a damn moonbeam.

Damn moonbeam. When Peeta came to close the windows, she almost thought he would take her hand, make her spin, that they would dance to the sound of the moon, to the music of the night. Obviously, he just wanted to open the windows, so what was her mind thinking? There wasn't any music but their breathing, no place to dance but close together, and maybe he didn't want to dance with her?

Or maybe she wanted more than to dance with him?

Both her hands went to her mouth, as if she had said something she hadn't wanted to, even though she hadn't uttered a word.

What had gone through her mind just now?

What was happening? Where were these thoughts coming from?

She wasn't falling for Peeta, was she? Sure he was hot and handsome, but she had seen men more perfectly built than he was. Sure he was kind and gentle, fun and polite, but they were only friends, right?

She wasn't falling for Peeta Mellark.

Was she?

Sleep never came for Katniss that day. Her body was able to rest, to relax, lying on the hardwood floor of the Boudoir. Her mind, not so much. Thoughts of dancing, of Peeta, of more dancing, came relentlessly, wave after wave, doing nothing to calm her galloping brain. More and more of the thoughts involved the two of them dancing, one even with him shirtless and her in only a very, very light camisole and matching shorts.

She had no clue what was going on in her mind.

Well, maybe she had clues, or hints, but acknowledging them was something else.

Taking them at face value, accepting what her mind was telling her was both frightening and a little exhilarating, if she wanted to be perfectly honest with herself.

When she finally rose a few minutes before her phone beeped to wake her up, it was with the resolve to think about all of this later, at home, with a glass of Pinot Grigio in one hand and chocolate chip cookies in the other. On her couch, with Buttercup locked outside on the fire escape for a few hours. Then she would have time on her own, maybe to Skype Prim and ask for her advice.

Katniss stopped in the hallway. Why Skype Prim? Prim didn't even know Peeta? How could she give advice? Why did Katniss rely on her sister for everything? When did she turn from the teenager who took care of everything to someone who depended on others?

The answer was easy: the day Prim left for the other side of the Atlantic. The day Katniss found herself alone, with nobody to take care of - Buttercup didn't count.

It was time to change all of that. To be who she wanted to be, who she craved to be. To kiss the man she wanted to kiss, to feel his hands on her, to allow herself the possibility of loving, and being loved.

To admit she was attracted to a certain blond man.

Her phone beeped, taking Katniss out of her thoughts, ushering her back to the reality of her day. Rehearsals.

The afternoon had been long, exhausting. The same moves, made again and again, pirouettes, piqués, all afternoon long. In tutus or long, light skirts according to the director's mood of the hour. Or the minute. All the dancers hated his lavender hair - yeah, lavender- and his honeyed voice, so full of loathing behind the accolades.

It was only when Plutarch came onstage to ask Caesar to make a decision once and for all about the costumes that the director settled on the old-fashion way. It would be tutus for the women, and tights for the men, a move Katniss suspected had a lot to do with the shape of the men's legs in their attire.

But damn, Cinna's costumes were ten times better than these vintage tutus.

She got out of the National later than usual, taking the subway home, her earbuds in for the journey.

She lost herself in the music. The sad, sad tempo, dripping with pain, guitar riffs floating into her ears, the beat of the drums making her foot move in sync.

Katniss could feel the pain of the loss filling her ears, despite the noise from the tube around her.

She closed her eyes, listening to the introduction again. The piece was on loop, she couldn't, didn't want it to leave her mind. Not today. She knew the lyrics.

I never meant to cause you any sorrow

I never meant to cause you any pain

I only wanted one time to see you laughing

I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain

Memories of sorrow and pain, of her losses, came back with a vengeance. Who would want to see her dancing in any kind of rain? She let her thoughts wander away from the pain of the loss of a legend, let them drift, maybe to a better place.

Images started to form in her mind. She could see herself in her pointes, a long white skirt reaching her ankles, and a simple white top, her shoulders caressed by her long locks falling in waves, free. In her mind, she was walking the way she was taught to when wearing her pointes, legs stretched, gracefully making her way to the spotlight. She couldn't tell where she was, yet it didn't matter. All that mattered was the music, the itch to dance in her toes, her whole body trying to express the lament of the singer. Before she realized it, she saw herself starting to move, her ballerina moves echoing the words, mimicking the lyrics, reaching out to invisible people, as if asking for forgiveness. But her gestures lacked their usual grace, as if she was being held from behind, something restraining her, not letting her fly away.

The chorus came too quickly; the echoing, repetitive words adding layers of sadness to the pain, and it was as if the invisible ties were knotted even more tightly, if possible.

He came into the light, holding his hand out for her, but she couldn't, couldn't reach his fingers, tied as she was at the shoulders, at the waist.

So he took a step closer, his hand ghosting over her head, a whisper away from her hair, sliding slowly, a bare caress. She wanted nothing more than to feel his palm against her but something held her back, tied her neck, making it impossible for her to lean into him.

His hand continued, skimming along her body like a ray of sunshine, warming her skin, from her shoulders to her elbows, taking the cold away.

In the background, the music echoed the same notes on the guitar, pleading for purple rain on a loop.

He finally touched her, his fingers intertwining with hers, breaking the invisible chains that bound her hands. Her arm chased his, finally free, finally graceful. His hands went to her waist then, pulling her body closer to his, and warmth started to spread everywhere he touched. Waist, hips, legs, trying to make her spin, trying to make her dance, but she was still held back by the shoulders, by the neck.

He stepped behind her, his blue eyes leaving hers, and she felt the loss immediately, though the warmth still flowed in waves across her body.

His hands were still on her, silky as a petal of a flower, he was still touching her, even as he stepped behind her. But she couldn't turn her head, couldn't move, it was too hard, it would choke her, prevent her from breathing.

His hand moved up her right arm, setting it free too, sliding into her mane of hair, slowly lifting it.

She felt the cold air on the nape of her neck, the contrast with the warmth inside her making her shiver.

His hand still moved, though, slipping down her back, tracing patterns on her spine, lightly, and she felt, felt his warmth coming closer and closer.

Then she felt his lips on her neck, setting her completely free.

The music in the background took over again, the lyrics finally continuing, the loop broken.

Honey I know, I know, I know times are changing

It's time we all reach out for something new

She turned to face him, finally, finally, taking in his blue eyes full of hope, his gentle smile, his unruly blond hair shining in the spotlight. He took a step back, extending his hand again. Only this time, she could grab it, she could dance with him, they could be one in this spotlight, in this place.

They danced until there wasn't any music left, until there was only a peaceful silence, and he stepped away, kissing her hand, his smile so bright it would light the room.

She realized she was flying away, towards the light above, towards the sun, towards life, her life.

She had wings. She could fly.

The thought startled her out of her reverie, out of this dream of a dance. She opened her eyelids, to the sensation of multiple pairs of eyes looking at her. Turning her head, she could see tears falling down some cheeks, could see sparkling eyes and sad smiles, all focused on her. An old man in front of her patted her arm, and it was okay. He smiled sadly.

"You have an amazing voice, miss. He died today, did you know? That was a beautiful tribute."

Then he patted her arm once more before heading to the doors, getting lost in the crowd of the Panem rush hour.

She had wings. She could fly.

Katniss fidgeted with her phone for a few seconds, feeling like the sixteen-year-old she never was. It must have felt like that to wait for an invitation to prom, or for an impromptu meeting with a boy she could have had a crush on. It wasn't difficult, what she had to do. Just call Peeta, like she had already called him dozens of times before to arrange their meetings at the Arena. Just call and ask him if he wanted to have a drink one evening with her.

No big deal, right?

Well, it was.

Because she wasn't sure he felt the same attraction she felt for him. They had a friendship now, something built on sweat and hard work, on lots of time spent together - on trust. That was not something she could trade lightly, or would give up.

She chased the thoughts out of her mind. She was done overthinking.

She pressed the screen on Peeta's name.

"Hey Katniss, how are you?"

"Hi Peeta... I was wondering…"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it's… I was… well…" It was harder than she thought, maybe she wouldn't succeed in asking him. "I was wondering if…." She took a deep breath. Time to woman up. It couldn't be more difficult than staying for long minutes as human decor in an uncomfortable position for Swan Lake. "I was wondering if you'd have some time for me one evening?"

"Oh, you want to come and dance? Sure, I can look? Gimme a sec." Of course. Why would he think she wanted anything other than to dance? She never let on there could be more on her part.

"No, I mean, yes, I'd love to dance again, but what I meant was… maybe a drink, you know?"

The only answer she got was a long, profound silence. She looked at her phone, checking if the conversation was still on - it was - before biting her lip, wondering if she had made the right move.

"Sorry, I was surprised, I didn't expect that."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Crap. Bad move. "I thought that maybe, but it's okay if you don't-"

"Katniss, stop. I'd be happy to have a drink with you. I just thought I would be the one asking you out, you know?"

"Oh." She gathered her wits, finally understanding his words. "Oh, wow... So you want to then?"

"Yeah… I have Thursday night off? Would that work for you?"

Hell no, it wouldn't. She had a full day with Caesar on Friday.

"Thursday's perfect. Around 6:30? Would that work?"

"That's great, actually. I look forward to Thursday!"

"Me too. Bye Peeta."

"Bye Katniss. See you on Thursday."

She hung up the phone, a huge smile on her face.

Tuesday passed in a whirlwind of dance, tutus, sore feet, and a lot of thinking, leaving Katniss completely exhausted, unable to think about her date two nights away.

If she thought Tuesday was bad, Wednesday was actually worse. Caesar didn't let them go until 8:45 pm, angry at the whole ballet who "murdered his artistic ideas", as they dared question some of his choices.

The director seemed to want to take the word "fire" in The Firebird in the literal sense, setting Katniss on fire. An artificial fire, but still a fire.

As if dancing wasn't hard enough, Caesar wanted them to dance in fire. What else, really?

Plutarch and Haymitch finally came down to try and calm the director, taking him into another room for an hour while all of the ballet waited, resting their sore joints, rambling about his craziness.

Caesar only came back to send all of them home for the night.

Something was nagging at Katniss's mind though. But she couldn't figure out what it was, too exhausted to think.

It hit her hard on Thursday morning, though, as she was drinking her coffee, checking the new schedule Effie had sent them. To her great pleasure, she had the afternoon free, but couldn't, for the life of her, understand why she had to attend a Q&A that morning instead of meeting Caesar for another lovely round of rehearsals.

She wasn't going to complain, though. It left her the afternoon to rest before her date that night.

That's exactly when she realized what would be happening later in the day.

She was going out with Peeta.

Peeta Mellark.

And she had absolutely nothing to wear.


	20. Step 20: Pretty Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss has a date with Peeta - but she has nothing to wear ... if you want to read a shopping trip and a date, dive in !!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to the Fantastic Four … the team of betas @xerxia31, @dandelion-sunset, @titaniasfics for doing their magic
> 
> And to @akai-echo who creates magic beyond words with her aesthetics :)
> 
> I can’t believe there’s only 5 chapters left of this story…. And here is the part you’ve all waited for - Everlark’s first date :)

She knew she should have followed her instincts, leaving the National via the back exit, instead of the front one. Then she wouldn’t have run into Madge on the stairs. Madge, who did not grill her about her session in the morning, but rather about why she was heading out on a Thursday before noon had even rung.

The biggest mistake Katniss made was admitting she needed to go shopping. It took Madge less than two minutes to coerce the story out of her friend, and volunteer as personal shopper for the afternoon.

The next minute was dedicated to calling Delly, arranging to meet her at the shopping mall because Madge thought reinforcements were more than necessary in this dire situation.

Of course, Katniss didn’t have a say in the matter when General Undersee was in conquest mode.

She found herself in Madge’s car, with her purse and coat, in less than five minutes.

“So, tell me, who did you meet? Is he hot? Do I know him? Does he come from a good family? And what’s that crap with Caesar?” Sometimes, Katniss wondered - really wondered - how her friend could make such long sentences without breathing. She must have some kind of superpower.

“Caesar’s not directing anymore, he was fired.”

“Fired? They’ve never fired anyone before!”

“Well apparently they never fired anyone under Crane, but Plutarch’s different. He wouldn’t stand for Caesar’s behavior, talking to us like we we’re cattle, saying Cinna’s costumes were awful, and hitting on Thresh.”

Madge nodded. “I hope for Flickerman’s sake that Rue never finds out he made a move on her man. She’s kind of intimidating when it comes to Thresh.”

“She is, right? I’m glad she likes me.”

“Rue likes everybody.”

“Thanks, Madge… very helpful.”

“Hey, I’m here, and my cousin will help you, so you’ve got like your own fanclub!”

“Number of members: 2. ‘Cause I’m not including myself.”

“Blah, blah. So, who’s the guy?”

“Did I tell you Plutarch and Haymitch are taking over directing?”

“No. Don’t care. Who are you seeing tonight?”

Katniss sighed.

“A man.”

“Ohh… and HE has a name?”

“He actually has.”

“Annnd??? God, Katniss, you’re the worst! Jesus Chalupa!”

“Peeta.”

“Holy cow, Batman! You’re going out with your tango dancer? Wow, lucky you, he’s hot and handsome! How did that happen? How did he ask you out? Do you know what he has planned for tonight?”

“Wow, calm down, Madge, too many questions….”

“Tell me! No, wait until we’re with Dels, I have to text her!”

“You’re driving, so no texting.”

“Killjoy. So how long do we have to dress you up?”

“I don’t know, an hour?”

Madge nearly killed them both by braking so suddenly, the car behind them hammered on their horn a good ten seconds.

“An hour? For shopping? Katniss, darling, we won’t be done with lingerie in an hour!”

“I already have bras, I don’t need froufrous.”

“You have everyday bras, you need date-worthy underthings.”

“I don’t intend on him seeing them, you know?”

“It’s not about him seeing them. It’s about you wearing them. Feeling sexy and beautiful. You’ll get lingerie, even if that’s all you get today.”

“Madge...”

“Oh, you’re going to turn all scowl-Katniss on me? Well I’m calling Dels, since we don’t have much time.”

“Oh god.” Katniss could feel the blush in her cheeks, didn’t want to think about the high squeal that would surely escape Delly, wasn’t sure whether she could handle so many girly things in so little time.

The Bluetooth did its magic, soon an overexcited Madge was talking to an equally overexcited Delly.

“I KNOW? Right! They are perfect for each other!”

“Dels, we only have one hour. We’re on a mission here.”

“You girls realize I’m sitting in the car, right?” Katniss asked.

“So we divide and conquer. Dels, you take care of the clothes, we’ll be out of Vicky’s Secret in twenty minutes.”

“Wow, Madge, you like a challenge.” Delly said.

“You girls realize I’m sitting in the car, right?” Katniss repeated.

“Yeah, we know, Katniss, but we’re in an emergency situation. Where is Peet taking you?”

“Nowhere, I asked him out.”

“You did! So proud of you, Kat! Look at you, all grown up!” Madge added, winking. “So where are you taking him?”

“Uh, for a drink?”

“She’s hopeless, Maggie.” Delly chimed in.

“Nothing’s hopeless.” Madge turned to her friend, before looking for a spot in the large parking lot. “Katniss. Do you know where you’re taking Peeta?”

“I was thinking Sae’s maybe?”

“Sae’s?”

“Yes? Is there a problem with that? It’s not classy enough for Peeta?” The whole situation was starting to get on Katniss’s nerves, really.

“Dels, I’m hanging up, we’re heading straight to Vicky’s , right?”

“See ya!”

Madge ended the call, putting her hand on Katniss’s arm before she could get out of the car.

“Katniss. We’re here to help you. We’ll tone it down, okay? But we are so excited about this!”

“I can tell…. “

“Well, aren’t you?”

Was she?

The tingling in her belly when she thought about Peeta was all the answer she needed.

\--

Katniss’s eyes grew bigger, her steps slower, as Madge and Delly dragged her towards what she guessed was the VS shop.

Victoria’s Secret.

Aka - the place she’d never been to. Nor had ever wanted to go to.

If she thought clothes shopping with both ladies was a difficult task, going inside VS with them would be something else, something she dreaded a lot.

“Madge…”

“I know. We won’t go over the top, okay? But please, please Kat. Trust me...”

“I don’t know, Madge, I’m not one of those girls, you know that?”

Madge spun so quickly in front of her that Katniss thought she would collide with her friend in the middle of the mall.

“Katniss, I really, really wish that one day you would see yourself the way we see you. You are a dancer, you have an amazing body, you have grace, elegance, and you are so beautiful. Anything in this shop would suit you. Trust me, it’s not vulgar or slutty. You’ll be radiant. Even if Peeta doesn’t see it, what you wear under your clothes will make you feel elegant, confident, and womanly.”

“She’s right, Kat,” Delly chimed in. “The clothes you picked are beautiful, really, but you need to have something other than cotton underwear. Even if it’s not for Peeta.”

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so…. ”

“We do, Honey.” Honey? Katniss didn’t think she’d been called Honey once in her life - but it was Delly so she shouldn’t really be surprised. “It’s all for you. YOU. Put yourself first, for once. Shine. Be confident and beautiful. Be you. You don’t have to pick anything glittery or feathery, just something you would like to wear. Indulge yourself, Katniss. Let the woman inside you live and breathe.”

The woman inside? Who was Delly talking about?

Astonishment must have shown on her face, as Madge patted her arm gently.

“Isn’t there a part of you, somewhere, that wants to go into this shop?”

“I…”

Was there? she asked herself, trying to listen to her inner self. Behind the walls she had erected , was a young woman who had always wanted to go inside a lingerie shop, wondering what she could find for herself, if she had the money to spend there.

“Then come with us, we will be quick, okay? And if you find nothing you like, that’s okay.”

With the promise of not having to buy anything she didn’t like, she caved, surrendering to her inner young woman, following her friends inside.

\--

She never imagined there could be so many different shapes and colors of bras and panties, enough to fill up an entire store. She honestly didn’t know where to look to find something that she might like.

They took the bags containing Katniss’s clothes for the evening - they had a change of plan deciding it would be better to buy the lingerie after the main outfit was purchased - peeking inside greedily.

“The blouse is really gorgeous, gives that vintage touch that’s so in fashion these days. But Ivory. So, nothing black.”

“Why not?” Katniss asked, surprised. Everything could go with black?

Madge and Delly looked at each other, disappointment evident on their faces.

“No black under white, ivory, cream, not on the first date anyway. Black and red mean ‘Let’s go home and have fun’.”

“It does?” Was that a universally shared fact she wasn’t aware of? Were men aware of that?

“Well, the men have no clue, of course if you’re wondering. It’s the way you wear the lingerie, you know?”

She didn’t.

“Katniss, have you ever worn anything other than plain cotton panties?”

“No, they’re practical?”

“It’s the way you wear it. Black and red used to be the colors of courtesans, and you’re not going that way today. So we’ll stick to ivory or white. Are you okay with that, Katniss?”

“I guess so?”

Did she really have a choice. She realized something hadn’t been mentioned yet, something she would stay firm on.

“No push-ups, though. I don’t have much, I don’t want to give any other impression.”

“Kat, we would never. You’re beautiful the way you are, and you have enough, okay?” Madge said.

“Peeta doesn’t want to date you because of your boobs, but because of who you are,” Delly added. “You don’t know the effect you have on him. Six months ago, he was ready to leave the company to go back working with his family. Then you arrive, Finnick goes away, and here he is, full of ideas for women’s dances, with twice as much enthusiasm as before.”

Could that be because of her? Katniss had trouble believing it.

“There are dozens of reasons why he’s changed, Delly. None of them involve me.”

Delly just shrugged, a small smile on her face, then walked towards the row of bras in front of them.

“Come, they might have something you like here!”

Madge and Delly spent the next fifteen minutes showing Katniss with everything from snow-white to pearl-white, sandy-white, even creamy-white, but nothing found favor in Katniss’s eyes. Nothing. The two girls were bordering on despair, when something caught her attention.

Something on the back wall, a glimpse of color on an otherwise ivory confection. Ignoring her two friends, she walked straight to what she saw, her fingers aching to touch the soft silk, the lace on top of it giving it an elegant touch.

The small orange ribbon woven through the lace, finishing in a cute little bow on the front was the final touch that drew Katniss in.

“This one.” Her tone was decisive. She had found what she wasn’t looking for, what she wasn’t aware she needed, but what belonged on her skin.

She quickly checked the sizes, finding hers, then looked for the matching panties, never looking at her friends who were staring at her with proud smiles on both of their faces.

They couldn’t stop whispering things like “Look, our baby is growing up,” all the way to Katniss’s place.

Madge tried to insist on coming up to help her dress, but Katniss wasn’t going to change her mind on being alone. And there were things she needed to take care of before. Like feeding Buttercup. Or running away to another state. Important things.

First things first. Feeding the Beast. She wouldn’t admit it to anybody and certainly not to her sister, but the mangy cat had grown on her. She had spent so many nights with only him as her only company, the only remaining proof that she wasn’t alone, that she had a little family too.

She wanted a bit of time for herself too. She wasn’t a shopping addict. Far from it. she never ventured into malls more than was necessary, the crowds and incessant noise giving her headaches. She heard enough music every day at work, she needed to indulge in her quiet from time to time.

Time flew as she laid on her couch, peeking through her shopping bags, glad she didn’t succumb to her friend’s pressure of buying heels, instead choosing to wear her almost new pair of boots.

Black jeans, a vintage ivory blouse, and a light green cardigan, along with the underthings. That’s all she took from the bags, all she had purchased.

She made her way to the bathroom, checking the clock above the door. She would have to hurry a bit if she wanted to be on time, since she had to rely on public transportation to get to the Arena. She wanted to take a long, relaxing shower to try to wash away the stress of the date coming. Because there was no denying it this time. It was a date. One she’d asked for.

One she wanted.

One she was pretty sure Peeta wanted too.

Showtime.

\--

Somehow, she made it on time to the Arena, the God of Public Transportation being with her, making the metro connect each time she arrived onto a platform like magic.

Peeta was waiting near the main doors of the theater, the smile on his face growing wide as he saw her approaching, making his eyes sparkle, as if he was lit from inside.

“Katniss...” His voice was soft as he took her in his arms.

They had been close to one another while dancing, he had hugged her several times too, but nothing before had been like this embrace. Closer, warmer, stronger, more familiar. His hands were higher on her back, almost between her shoulders, making small circles there, as if he was clinging to her, for fear of letting her go.

“Hey, Peeta.” Her voice was lost in the space between his neck and his leather jacket, his familiar smell surrounded her, grounding her to the reality of here and now.

She couldn’t identify the feeling coming over her as she pulled away - regret, maybe? She took him in. His hair were still damp from the shower, his blue eyes sparkling, really shining under an unruly lock of hair out of place, his white shirt under his blue sweater, his jeans, and a goddamn leather jacket. She never thought he would own one. It wasn’t a shiny, black one with zippers everywhere, rather than thewell-worn brown one, one that had seen many seasons.

A lot like her own, she realized.

“So, where are we going?” Peeta asked, clumsily shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans as if he didn’t dare do anything with them. Like holding her hand, she thought.

Wait, what did he just ask?

“What?”

“Where are we going?”

She had thought about the clothes, about the way she would look, took time to apply light makeup - so different from the evenings at the National when she had to cover her whole face with it - thought about leaving a bit earlier to be on time, but never thought to tell him where they would go. Never thought whether going to Sae’s was a good idea.

“Oh…. Well… I thought we could go to Sae's but I hadn't really thought beyond that."

Peeta chuckled, running his right hand through his curls. “Well,” he started, “I have an idea, if you’re not done with art for the day.”

“More dancing?”

“No, not music, or dance. Just art.”

“I guess that’s better than hanging out around Starbucks?”

“Oh! You said their name!”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll tell Dad, and he’ll force you to eat at least ten donuts as a punishment.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Dad’s mean.” He extended his hand to her. “Shall we?”

She didn’t hesitate, taking his hand in hers.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To Wonderland.”

\--

“The Botanical Gardens? But it’s closed at night.”

“The main section, yes, but they have an exhibition of sculptures in the Japanese gardens and I’ve wanted to see it, so I thought why not?”

“At night? We won’t see a thing, Peeta!”

“Ah, but ma chère, that’s the main goal. It’s called ‘A Game of Light and Shadows’, you can see it by night or during the day.”

“Very Game of Thrones.”

“Maybe the curator is a fan. Go figure.”

They had chatted during the short drive from Arena to the Gardens, grabbing a sandwich from Sae’s and eating it in Peeta’s car before getting out.

Katniss had expected he would want to hold her hand again, but he settled on instead putting his hand on the small of her back, where she was pretty sure the warmth coming from it would leave a permanent mark.

She wanted to beat him to pay for the entrance (after all, she asked for the date), only to realize to her surprise that it was free of charge, being sponsored by patrons all over town.

She grabbed the two leaflets the hostess handed her, giving one to Peeta, before trying to understand hers.

“This way,” he said, taking her elbow, leading her towards the large sliding glass doors to the Japanese Gardens.

“How do you know?”

“I came during the day.”

“But, it’s going to be the same, are you sure you want to go again?”

“It won’t be the same. This time, I’m with you.”

Peeta led her through the doors, guiding her towards a tall Japanese lantern made of stone. Placed in the middle of a sand garden was the ancient granite construction, unaware of the change of times, of seasons, of men, just waiting night after night to be lit, to fulfill its sole purpose, unmoving. Through the different holes in the stone, Katniss glimpsed, lit by the moon or the stars above. As they progressed nearer to the lantern, the electrical lights faded away until their path was lit only by the small fires inside the sculpture that bathed the grey stone in waves of orange shades.

“Look,” Peeta whispered in Katniss’s ear, as if he didn’t want to disturb the silence around them. Katniss lifted her eyes to the top of the lantern that was painted in red, to see it shining with the sparks of the fire, radiating warmth and light all around. The trees, peaceful spectators of the beauty of the fire, remained safely away, their branches swinging to feed the lights, whispering their music.

She didn’t know how long she stood, bathing in the light, bathing in the fire, watching the flames dance their unscripted routine with the wood, swaying to their own music.

Peeta was at her side, not saying a word, lingering with her as he watched the same spectacle, the same amazement in his eyes.

“Peeta, that’s beautiful…”

“It is… Look at all the shades of colors, I could never make as many hues, it’s incredible.”

“Make? Like colors?”

“Yeah.” He looked like a little boy who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I kind of like art.”

Katniss went back to watching the lantern, the fire flickering loosely in the breeze, strong despite the wind.

“I figured. You have a thing for art. Are there other things to see here?”

“Plenty. Come with me.”

Again, his hand was extended for her to take - or not. She didn’t want to miss her chance. She grabbed his hand, the warm feeling of it echoing the fire in the old lantern. Unmovable. Strong. Steady.

He showed her a small river, lit by underwater spotlights, making the water lilies glow as they danced in the current. They discovered statues, the white moonlight only highlighting details that wouldn’t be so apparent under the yellow sun, followed a little path leading to a buddhist temple where people were praying.

They followed the seam of the river, looking at the banks where expertly trimmed bushes were placed here and there, highlighting the beauty of the place, until Katniss’s eyes caught a glimpse of a light.

“Peeta, over there, there’s something!”

“Where?” He started searching around, unsuccessfully, until Katniss dragged him towards the light.

“Here, the light… wow…”

Stumbling behind her, Peeta finally came into the little clearing Katniss had spotted. There was a pond, fed by a tiny stream coming out of dark stone, its presence only revealed by the music of the falling water.

Japanese paper lanterns were scattered around, safely hung from trees, or on pedestals, giving the place a fairy-like touch. The water was lit by two others, placed on the water lilies.

“This is like a fairytale….”

Fireflies, attracted by the light, bumbled in the air, making their way through the heavy foliage of a willow tree, its branches so long they touched the surface of the water.

She felt his intake of breath as he took in the scenery , his hand clutching hers tighter. Turning her head, she saw him looking all around, as if he was trying to capture the beauty of the place in his mind.

“I wish I had my sketchbook…” he whispered, as if not wanting to disturb the peace and silence of the place.

“So you draw?” Katniss asked.

“Yeah, when I have a bit of time.”

“You do have an eye for beauty.”

He nodded. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She tookin the scenery in front of her, before glancing at him again. But he wasn’t looking at the pond or the willows or the lanterns. He was looking at her.

“Peeta?”

“You don't know, do you? The effect you have?” he whispered, his hand moving to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Dance with me, Katniss. Please?” He tugged at the hand he held.

“There’s no music.”

“Does it matter?”

She realized it didn’t. She took his hand, but before they began, she removed her boots, wanting to feel the grass under her feet. He chuckled before doing exactly the same thing, toeing off his Vann’s, before pulling her closer.

She felt his heartbeat against her chest as they started to move together, bathed in the moonlight and the water lights, following a rhythm only they could feel. Their eyes were locked, lost in one another, telling each other stories they didn’t dare share out loud.

Their lips found each other in the same movement, as they continued dancing.

Katniss didn’t know who started the kiss, or who stopped it. One moment, her lips were covered by his, warm and soft, and the next, they weren’t. She could feel the breeze instead of Peeta, the smell of him all around her, but she missed him, his contact.

Opening her eyes, she found the blue of his looking into hers, as if asking for something, for permission, maybe? She wanted to lean in, to feel him against her lips, but he decided otherwise, making her spin before catching her in his arms.

She couldn’t help but laugh, the feel of the grass on the soles of her feet tickling her, the light of the moon in the sky highlighting his blond hair, the warmth of his hands reviving her body. She laughed and he smiled, watching her turn in his arms, her long locks free, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

Katniss’s mind was only focused on the here and now, on the feelings that threatened to explode out of her body, feelings she thought were long gone, never to be seen again. She was glad to have been wrong.

She wanted more, though. More than a peck on the lips. She wanted to know what really kissing Peeta would feel like.

But right now Peeta seemed to be focused on making her dance, spinning her, dipping her, not caring about their discarded shoes, or how the grass was wetting the hems of their trousers. They danced to a music without tune, without beat, but they knew the song, they could feel it, no indications needed.

Katniss smiled, her head spinning, but she wanted more, needed more. She stilled in Peeta’s arms, not taking his cue to turn again. Around them, fireflies were still dancing. She leaned forward, her lips touching his again, and it felt like going someplace she’d always known, so close to her heart. This time though, she let her lips explore his, lingering on the creases of his lips, discovering them, as if she wanted to commit them to her memories. He didn’t hesitate in reciprocating, searching her lips as if to map them, with a hunger, a greed that surprised her.

Katniss felt a moan starting in the back of her throat, and was unable to stifle it, unable to think about anything other than his lips on hers, until she felt his tongue tracing her mouth. She didn’t hesitate, parting her lips to let him in, to welcome him, taking the chance to chase after him too. His hands let hers go, and climbed to cup her face, his thumbs caressing the soft planes of her cheeks, fingers splayed on her jaw, anchoring her to him as their tongues danced to a score they seemed to have known since the dawn of time.

Her head started to spin, more than she had while dancing in Peeta’s arms.

She should have known he would be the one making her spin with joy like the little girl she once had been.

She didn’t mind.

At all.


	21. Step 21: Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day of rehearsals.  
> Another night of Dancing with the Stars at Peeta's ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest thanks to the Fantastic Four - @xerxia31, @dandelion-sunset and @titaniasfics for their beta skills - you should see the chapter before they do their magic, really.  
> And @akai-echo's talents bring images to this story - thank you, my dear from the bottom of my heart :)  
> Please do not hesitate to leave a message or a comment :) So much appreciated, they are !
> 
> TW: Canon-typical abuse - We all know what it means, right ?

Seven days.

That’s all that remained before the first performance of The Firebird. Seven days during which Katniss would have to focus on her steps, position, feet and hands, rehearse the same parts again and again, in sweatpants or in the gorgeous costumes Cinna made. She would have to concentrate on dancing, and nothing else.

Which, after last night’s date, could prove to be a challenge. She had lost count of the number of times Peeta had kissed her in the park  as they walked hand in hand around the Japanese Garden, whether it was a peck on the lips, or a deeper exploration of her mouth.

And she had liked it. A lot.

She had liked the way his hands climbed up and down her back, how carefully he had threaded them into her hair, taking her braid out completely until her dark locks fell down her back. She’d had her revenge, though, when she let her own hands wander through his golden hair, following the curls on the nape of his neck, enjoying their softness and their roughness, what made them so authentically male.

“Everdeen, you here with us?”

Haymitch’s voice took Katniss from her reverie, bringing her down to the stage she was on, taking her away from her time with Peeta the night before and what a perfect gentleman he had been, taking her home, leaving her with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Right now though, she needed to focus, meaning she had to forget about Peeta for a few hours. Or minutes if that proved to be too difficult.

She looked at the man who had taken the place of the former director, collected herself and nodded slightly. Time to work.

Katniss took her place backstage, flexing her ankles again and again until it was her time to come on stage. A simple sequence, maybe, but one that required jumping and turning over and over again.

She took a deep breath before plunging onto the stage, being cautious to avoid Prince Ivan and the scenery, careful of her steps, listening to the music. This afternoon, they would try the costumes on, the real ones, before rehearsing in them for the rest of the week.

But for now what mattered to her was to dance. Dance, be the bird on fire, be this uncatchable animal, flying free in the forest, flying away, spreading its wings over the ground, over the forest, aiming for the sky, the sun, the stars.

So she flew.

Around the largecentral tree, around Prince Ivan and over the bushes, trying to reach for the lights high above, letting herself be the bird that was fire.

Clapping started as soon as she reached the other side of the stage. Katniss turned, wondering what had happened, who had come into the theater, until she saw all the looks were directed towards her, that applause was for her.

“Congratulations, Sweetheart. That’s what I call dancing,” Haymitch said, a small smile on his lips, before he turned, yelling for the Princesses to come and do their bloody jobs.

Katniss felt the rush of adrenaline starting to leave her limbs, bringing her down to the place she really was - the stage of the National Ballet, rehearsing for a performance. Not in the sky, trying to catch the sun.

But she had touched it, almost, with the tips of her wings.

And it had felt damn good.

With a smile on her face, she prepared to start another sequence across the stage.

  
She was the Firebird, the uncatchable animal.

She was the Firegirl, the Girl on Fire, who could only be tamed by the hands of a kind man.

She was as radiant as the sun.

She was a dancer.

 

The rest of the rehearsal passed with as much ease as possible, each step evident, each move of the hand a natural extension of her arm, her feet dancing to the music.

She was about to leave the stage, her muscles sore, sweat dripping down her whole body, when she heard Haymitch’s voice again.

“Everdeen, a word?”

Katniss froze. In her world, that meant she hadn’t performed as well as she should have, as she thought she had. She felt her shoulders slump at the thought of not being enough, once more, of having failed everybody again.

She made her way back to Haymitch, wiping her face off with her towel, readying herself for what was to come.

“What was that, on stage?”

There it was. She had failed, again. Despite herself, she felt the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. But she wouldn’t cry in front of Haymitch. No, she would keep that to herself, for later that day.

“I don’t know what happened to you, Sweetheart, or what you ate this morning, but don’t change the brand. You were glowing.”

Wait... what? Haymitch was praising her? What was wrong with the universe? She opened her mouth to answer, wondering what to say - nothing had changed since the last rehearsal.

Nothing but Peeta.

She felt a small smile come to her lips just at the thought of him, of their dance near the pond, of the fireflies dancing with them to the music of their hearts.

Suddenly, the words were easy to find.

“I danced with the fairies.”

“Then keep them around.” With a smile, and a sarcastic salute, he turned on his heels and headed to the other side of the stage, leaving Katniss alone.

She was the last one on the stage, the other dancers and technicians having left to grab lunch. A single spot remained alight, bathing Katniss in its white beam. Smiling, she let her head fall back, taking in the light falling down on her, warming her. Slowly, she extended her arms and started spinning, like the little girl she used to be, like the little girl she still was.

 

\--

Days passed, filled with rehearsals, breaking in new pointes, costume fittings and sewing, more pins in her hair than she could count, and the stress finally adding up.

Monday evening arrived, Katniss found herself packing a bag for an evening at Peeta’s to watch the next episode of Dancing With The Stars. This time, there would only be the two of them. No Delly or Johanna, nobody but her boyfriend and her.

 

Boyfriend. They hadn’t discussed what they were yet, maybe too afraid to reach that step and break the bubble in which they were living at the moment. She knew though, that she wouldn’t date anyone else while being with him, but would he agree? Should they put a label on what they were so soon? She had no clue. They were together and that would have to be enough for now.

 

The metro ride took forever to reach his building, stations passing by slower with each one fading into the darkness, time stretching to its maximum, surely to test her patience. She wanted to forget about her day in Peeta’s arms, be able to rant at him about how difficult it was to get ready for a show, or to listen to him describing the next number they would try. Just to talk to him.

And maybe kiss for a while.

Okay. More than a while.

 

They had seen each other a few times since their date, between the end of Katniss’s rehearsals and the start of Peeta’s show, but with lives so full of dancing, they barely had time to do anything. Talk about their days, eat a little, kiss more.

Throughout her life, Katniss had only had one serious boyfriend, a few years earlier. Had only experienced one real relationship out of lack of time and too much commitment to her art. He hadn’t been a dancer, had never understood why she needed to practice on her days off. She thought he would have brought some calm and quiet into her life, but he only wanted to go out and party - adding exhaustion to her stress.

They had lasted a few months before parting ways, Katniss feeling more relief than sadness. She chose then to leave romance out of her life, to focus on her career, fulfilling her physical needs with one-night stands, anonymous men soon lost in the past.

 

But everything felt different with Peeta. This time, kisses were far from being enough. She could feel it in her belly, the moment his lips would leave hers, an ache, a desire, a want that climbed up her spine, begging for more. It was like a hunger she wasn’t sure she could sate in one day.

It both frightened and calmed her, desiring someone that strongly all the time. She was becoming a lovesick puppy, looking for blond hair all around, for blue eyes smiling at her, or for his hand to guide her in a sensual dance.

“Capitol Square. Mind the gap.” The monotonous voice coming out of the speaker startled Katniss. It was her stop. She hurried out of the car, out of the tunnel, out of the station, to walk the few blocks to his building.

A call to his apartment and an elevator ride later she found herself knocking on his door, shifting from one foot to the other, both impatient and shy. She knew they would be alone tonight, she knew she would sleep there - but would he ask her to join him in bed? Was she ready to go to that level in their relationship?

She hadn’t had time to think of an answer to her inner questions when Peeta opened the door, a large smile on his face. One of his hands went straight to her duffel bag, taking it from her, while he leaned in, tenderly placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“You’re here,” he whispered as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Didn’t you invite me?”

“I did. I still can’t believe it.” He left another kiss before motioning for her to come inside, opening the door wider before closing it behind her.

Katniss felt the tension building  inside her. Would he expect them to spend the night in the same bed, together? The question that had been on her mind for the last few minutes was all she could think of.

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” she blurted out, her hands going to her mouth as she felt her cheeks blush.

“Wow… that’s… so not I was….” Peeta answered, a small smile on the corner of his lips.

“No, I mean, crap… it’s not….” She covered her face with her hands, trying to hide the flush she felt rising.

She took a deep breath before slowly dropping her hands.

“It’s just, I’m not ready for that, yet. I mean you’re awesome and great and all, but I’m just not ready. I need a bit of time.” She had avoided his eyes for her whole speech, not daring to see the look of disappointment.

“Katniss,” Peeta said slowly, his hand lifting her chin so her eyes were level with his. “I do not expect you to sleep with me tonight. I didn’t expect it. I have every intention of sleeping on the couch tonight. Look, I took a pillow and quilt. You will take my bed. I’m not ready for that either. We’ll only do that when we’re both ready. Okay?”

Katniss turned her head, looking over her shoulder towards the couch behind her. She could see the edges of a pillow over a carefully folded quilt.

“I’m sorry - I…  I thought…”

“Shh… don’t be sorry. It’s okay. We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it.”

Peeta’s hand left her chin and slowly slid down her arm in a light caress.

“When? Not if?”

“I’m not leaving, Katniss. I’m in this for the long term, if you allow it.”

Would she? The long term could be frightening. She heard Peeta sigh, felt the warmth leaving her arm at the same time.

“I didn’t want to bring this up so soon, I mean, we’ve only been on one date, two if tonight counts as a date…” He raked his hand through his curls, nervousness clearly displayed on his face, as well as something else Katniss couldn’t name. Was it fear? “But if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s okay too…”

“I’ll allow it,” she heard herself whisper in a tiny voice, barely a breath that stopped him immediately.

“What?” Peeta asked, as if he was unsure he had heard her.

“I’ll allow it.” Her voice was stronger now, more firm, as she repeated the words, letting them settle on her tongue, in her head, in her heart. Peeta moved forward, leaning in until her mouth became his. She craved the softness of his lips, the warmth of him.

He kept the kiss gentle, a caress of lips brushing against each other, nothing demanding, nothing expected. He pulled back, his hands having resumed their travels up and down her arms, his smile back.

Unable to resist, Katniss chased his lips again, leaning onto his chest for support, feeling the muscles move beneath his tee shirt, letting the kiss linger a little longer than the previous ones.

They pulled apart again soon after, before the kisses could escalate to more, to a level they weren’t ready to face yet.

\--

They settled in front of the TV, side-by-side on the couch, nibbling at the food in front of them while waiting for Finnick to show up on the screen.

“Do you know what they’re dancing this week?” Katniss asked, before blowing on the hot cheese bun she was holding in her hand.

“No idea. I just hope it’s something he likes you know?”

“Oh, there he is!” She pointed to Finnick, smiling on the stage, with his young partner in a long red skirt.

“Looks like they will paso or tango! Yay!” Peeta said, leaning forward a bit towards the screen, his professional face on.

“You can tell which dance they’re going to do by the costume?” Katniss asked in disbelief.

He turned to wink at her. “You can tell which ballet it is from the tutus, right? Same for me.”

Peeta turned to look at the screen again, and his right hand came to rest atop her left, tentatively brushing his palm across her knuckles, slowly becoming more confident before Katniss turned her hand, lacing their fingers together.

They watched as the show unfolded before their eyes, Peeta only muttering a “paso,” and groaning at the sight of his friend, removing his shirt, displaying his abs and tattoo for everybody to see.

“He’s such a git, he can’t help himself….” he whispered, his thumb grazing Katniss’s hand.

“Well, obviously he likes to show off…”

Peeta chuckled. “You noticed? Yeah, he does…. So it’s going to be a paso...”

“But the music? It’s Thriller…”

“Perfect for a paso, you’ll see.” Peeta leaned back on the couch, watching the couple take their place on the dance floor while the voiceover announced their names.

And indeed, the Michael Jackson song was perfect for a paso. Finnick and his partner alternated the moves, quickly and steadily, offering an incredible show as the crowd cheered at the end of their performance.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” Katniss asked as Finnick and his partner waited for the judge’s notes in the Red Room.

“Yeah, it was…”

“You’re very close to Finn and Annie it seems?” she asked.

Peeta nodded before leaning back on the couch completely, turning his head toward her.

“Finn offered me a job when everybody in the dance industry turned their backs on me. He came after me, asked me every day, came to my dad’s bakery, hung around the counter..Every day he was there, asking me to join the company.. Annie’s part of the deal, they are so cute together. She calms him, he brightens her.”

“How long did it take until you said yes?” Katniss asked, leaning on the back of the couch too, her head turned towards him.

“Three months, maybe? I wasn’t sure I could dance those things… After almost twenty years in ballet, you know...”

“You could dance anything,.” she said, letting her eyes rove over his body. Fit, muscular, flexible. “Thresh, the guy I danced the Bolero with," she saw Peeta flinch at the name. "He asked to come to see your show again.”

Peeta straightened up on the couch, his hand leaving hers. “What? What did you say?” His hand twisted in his hair, again, a sign Katniss had come to associate with him being stressed.

“He asked me if I wanted to come with his girlfriend and him, so they could book seats in advance. You guys are practically sold out.”

“Oh!” She had seen his face change at the mention of Thresh’s girlfriend, like relief was taking over.

“Peeta, you didn't seriously think I was seeing someone else, right?” She didn’t know what to expect for an answer.

“No. It’s just… We don’t have to discuss it right now or decide anything, but….” He took a deep breath. “Would you consider one day being my girlfriend?”

She felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips before she could answer him.

“I already consider myself as your girlfriend, Peeta.”

The kiss he gave her was nothing like the previous ones. It was full of smiles and warm lips, trailing all over her face, his hands on her back, hers in his hair, kissing each other to try to soothe their hunger.

It never occurred to them to check what Finnick’s scores were on the show.

\--

Katniss opened her eyes. She was surrounded by an unfamiliar scent, in an unfamiliar bed and it was the dead of night. Everything around was shrouded in dark, but for the alarm clock that shone proudly the numbers on display. 3:04 AM.

She was wondering what had woken her when she heard the sounds, muffled yet so sad, coming from the other side of the bedroom door.

Just like the last time she had slept at Peeta’s place, Katniss did not hesitate. She climbed out of bed, rushed out of the room without thinking, his voice guiding her through the night.

Peeta was on the couch, trying to escape the quilt that covered him.

Crying in his sleep.

Muttering.

Thrashing around.

Even though she knew it would be useless, she tried waking him up by shaking him. But Peeta on a good day was a solid fifty pounds heavier than she was, and even though years of training had given her muscles, they weren’t enough to move him. So she did what she knew had worked before, singing under her breath, stroking his hair like she used to do when Prim was younger, so long ago.

She had no clue which song was passing her lips, or for how long she sang, and it didn’t matter. She could feel Peeta relax under her fingers, his breathing easing as his muscles unwound more with each measure, each breath of music. Until finally his eyes popped open and l she could see the blue she liked so much chasing away the dark clouds.

“Katniss? What?” He sat up on the couch, looking around, rubbing a hand across his face, trying to erase the remnants of his nightmare. “I woke you up? I’m so sorry, go back to sleep, you have to wake up early--”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Remember? I have them too. Wanna talk about it?”

Peeta eased off the blanket, sitting up fully on the couch, letting his arms fall onto his knees, head down. Katniss swiftly took one of his hands in her own.

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“I know. But it could help you. If you’re not ready now, it’s okay, but know that if you want to, I’m here to listen.”

Peeta grabbed her other hand, finally lifting his eyes to hers. “Thank you…. One day?”

“One day.” She nodded, a tiny smile on her lips.

Katniss leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“When you’re ready, I’ll be here.” She rose from her position on the floor, her hand still linked with his. “Go to sleep now.” With a last kiss on his forehead, she walked away from the couch to the bedroom whose door she left open - just in case.

She was about to climb into the large bed when she heard Peeta’s voice whispering from the couch.

“I see her, with the rolling pin. My mom. She comes after me and hurts me because I gave bread to a starving kid. Or because I let the bread burn in the oven. I was seven the first time she hit me. Seven. And she was always cautious not to leave marks where other people would see them. The unbearable ones were on my soul. I did everything I could to get her to love me, but she never did.”

Katniss could feel her heart breaking with each of his words. How could someone hit a child willingly? She peeked out of the bedroom, Peeta had resumed his former position, this time with his head bent on his arms. She wondered if his words were meant for her to hear. She walked out of the bedroom, edging closer to the couch again as Peeta started to talk again.

“My dad never knew. My brothers didn’t know either. Why me? What did I ever do to piss her off? For her to hate me? So my nightmares are about her. There, I said it. My mother was a monster. She made me one…”

Katniss was now beside Peeta. She touched his shoulder, sliding her fingers down his arm until she reached his hand, which she took in hers. She gave a small tug, a hint for him to rise from the couch, but he didn’t move, only lifting his eyes to hers, a clear question in them.

She didn’t answer, words weren’t enough to express what she was thinking.

She tugged again, asking him to stand up. When he complied, she started walking towards the bedroom, with Peeta in tow. She felt him stop at the entry, whispering, “No, Katniss--”

She turned on her heels swiftly, pressing her fingers to his lips.

“Shh. We’ll just sleep.”

He nodded, following her again until they reached the side of the bed nearest the windows. Katniss pulled the covers down for him to slide between the sheets, in the bed that still held her warmth. He caved, slipping under the familiar blankets.

Smiling, Katniss went to the window, opening it slightly before heading back to join him in the bed, sliding under his blue sheets.


	22. Step 22: The Firebird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's D-Day for Katniss.
> 
> Firebird day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My huge thanks to titaniasfics/ct522 and xerxia (so much so much thanks) for betaing and proofreading this chapter :)  
> My deepest thanks to akai-echo for the beauty of her aesthetics :)
> 
> a shorter one but I think you'll like it :)  
> We're nearing the end - I'd love to hear your thoughts about the story :)

There was always something in the air the day of a show. A quality, a density that wasn’t there at other times, a feeling of immediacy, of nervousness penetrating every single person, from the lead dancers to the technicians.

Some would call it stress.

Even though Katniss knew the whole company couldn’t possibly do more rehearsals, with or without costumes, with or without lights, there was still that bit of doubt, the little voice inside asking whether or not they could have done more. Better. Different.

She knew she had to push that voice away, to not let it interfere with her preparation for the show tonight.

It was always the same moves, really. A routine. Flex, stretch, bend. Be careful, check the ribbons on the pointes, don’t eat too much. There was comfort to be found in the repetition of moves made over and over, again.

Concentration was on everyone’s faces, focussing on what was to come.

The show was only three hours away.

Stress was threatening to overwhelm her.

Katniss reached for her bag, looking for her phone and headphones inside  to try to take her mind off of her performance and what was coming. The lead role. She couldn’t mess up, not after all the work she put into be there, all the rehearsals at the National, all the rehearsals with Peeta and Finnick.

Peeta. Thinking of him brought back memories of Monday night, when she had brought him to her bed (well, technically his) after he’d had a nightmare, after his whispered confessions. He had fallen asleep on his side of the bed, facing the open windows, snuggled under the blue sheets. Katniss had followed suit soon after, lulled by the sound of his breathing, or by his closeness, she couldn’t tell.

It also brought back memories of Tuesday morning, of waking up with her back pressed against a hard chest, cuddled by a heavy arm around her waist, a man’s hand on the skin of her belly.

She had been able to successfully slipt out of bed without him noticing, moving towards the couch to   fold the quilt he had started his night under, busying herself with mundane things like closing the windows, opening the curtains, until Peeta woke up.

She had pretended not to look at his rumpled hair (why was men’s bedhead so sexy?), the way his shirt was stretched across his muscles, or the tattoo on his wrist that added a bit of something to his all-American look.

She couldn’t prevent the smile that came to her lips when she saw him realize that she hadn’t left, or the even bigger one once he came closer and kissed her cheek, then her jaw, his lips dragging towards hers in a slow movement.

“You’re still here…” he had whispered in awe.

“You promised me breakfast….”

“I did. But you stayed in spite…” He’d shied away, his eyes dropping from her face to the floor.

“There’s no other place I’d rather be” she had whispered back, wondering where that confidence had come from, realizing at the same time how true her words were. She had felt at ease all evening with him, joking and sharing a tray of food. But more importantly, she had felt good about being there to help him with his nightmares, understanding maybe more than others how it felt to have them, to face the darkness inside the mind.

To fight the darkness that could lead you down a dangerous path. A path she didn’t want Peeta to ever travel  .

“Everdeen? You okay?” Haymitch’s voice brought Katniss out of her thoughts, her hands still in her bag, suspended in their forgotten search for her phone. “You seemed lost for a second, Sweetheart.”

“I was looking for my phone…”

“You didn’t move for a solid five minutes, Katniss.”

“I have a big bag.” She wasn’t ready to admit she had spent the time daydreaming about a man. Her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. It had been a few days now, but Katniss was still coming to terms with the fact that she indeed had a boyfriend. Someone to share her everyday life with, beyond Prim. Someone who was happy to call her, or receive one of her texts, someone who cared.

Someone she could rely on.

“That you do. Like all women. Anything interesting in there?” Haymitch asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Nope. Just my phone, see?” She finally took the phone out, shoving the screen in front of her mentor’s face.

Haymitch’s smile grew wider as he leaned forward.

“You’ve got a message, Sweetheart.”

She quickly turned the device around in her hand. On the screen, a name, and the beginning of a message.

Peeta: Thinking of you. You got this, Kat.

Of course he would text her. She glanced at the time, realizing he was about to start preparing for his own show. She stood up, grabbed her bag and headed further backstage, before turning back to Haymitch.

“Of course I have a message. My boyfriend’s sweet like that.”

She swore she could see Haymitch’s jaw almost bounce off the floor.

\--

 

The National Ballet’s backstage area was a beehive in full working mode. Technicians hurried by,  carrying lengths of cables, kids from the corps de ballet ran around giggling and taking selfies, dancers went from hairdressers to costumers as the noise from the other side of the red, velvety curtains grew louder, stronger, scarier.

Katniss was sitting on the ground, in the shadows of the curtains. Her hair was done, her make-up on, earbuds plugged in her ears, trying to forget about the audience, about the ballet, the performance, trying to forget about the stress that had started to bubble up inside her stomach. Her costume was hanging on the door of her locker, in the dancers’ room, waiting for her. But for now she needed to tie her damned pointes, walk onto the stage and feel it under the soft material. She needed to finish stretching - if she could successfully tie these satin thingies.

She didn’t want to acknowledge that her hands were shaking.

The familiar sound of her phone ringing interrupted Sidney Bechet. Grabbing the devilish device, she saw Peeta’s name etched on the screen. She quickly picked up, knowing he was also on the verge of starting his own show.

“Hey...”

“Hey, Gorgeous. How are you?” He asked, and she wished, he was there to calm the anxiety she was trying so hard to ignore.

“I’m … I’m okay. Trying to tie my pointes. You?”

“Waiting for the show to begin. You know the drill… the worst is always the last few minutes before the curtains open.”

Oh she knew. “Yeah, I know what you mean…. but you’re used to it now, right?” she asked.

“A show’s a show. There’s always something to be worry about.”

“True.” She fidgeted with the ribbons of her pointes, too afraid to ask what she wanted. Taking a deep breath, she finally caved. “I’m kind of… frightened, you know? I know I shouldn’t be, I know I can dance it, but there’s this… fear…”

“Why wouldn’t you be? I’m always frightened just before a show. Just - let me get out of here, I have a secret to tell you-” There was a pause before Peeta carried on “Sorry ma’am..” The noise behind Peeta lessened - clearly  he was walking away from the people that surrounded him - until it was just a whisper in the background. “There. It’ll be more private now.”

“A secret? You wanted to tell me a secret?” she asked, wanting to know whether he had a magical formula to take the fear away.

“Ah yes. I might have something to tell you…” Peeta teased, and Katniss could hear his smile.

“Peetaaa…” she lasted longer than necessary on the last letter of his name, a thing she liked doing.

“Okay, Okay. I have this secret to tell you ….” She heard him take a breath. “I have a confession to make... I love seeing you dance. Even that first time when I saw you dance the Swan, you know? But mostly, I love seeing you dancing and losing yourself to the music. Like in the club. You were radiant, so alive under my hands, so … beautiful. You were made for dancing, Kat. You’re going to be awesome.”

“Peeta..” Her voice was just a whisper, overwhelmed by the emotions his words had awoken.

“Just promise me something...”

“What?”

“We’ll dance again, together. You, me, that damn red

dress…”

She chuckled at the memory of the dress, now ruined by the blood that had stained it after she fell.

“I promise. You, me, another red dress…-”

“Katniss!” One of the costumers interrupted her. “Ten minutes till opening, you have to get dressed!”

“I’ll be right down!” she answered to the woman before returning her attention to her phone. “I have to go …..”

“That you do, Firegirl. Don’t forget. Chin up, smile on, and dance for me, Kat, like you danced in the club….”

“You’re not here to dance with me, though….”

“I’m closer than you imagine.”

“I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Definitely… Dance, Kat. Dance! I have to go, they’re calling us. Don’t forget though... Have fun!”

“You have fun too!”

She hung up, not wanting the goodbyes to last and last, like the teenagers in chick flicks, uttering their undying love to their boyfriend of the hour. She had a show in less than ten minutes, and a costume to put on, even if Peeta’s words lingered in her head.

How he liked to watch her dance - he had never told her that before. She had never admitted either that she liked dancing with him, how his body moved gracefully despite his stocky build, despite his injury. She remembered how strong his arms were around her waist or holding her hand while he dipped her backwards, realizing at the same time that she really wanted to dance with him again. Maybe he could be persuaded to go to that salsa club again, to dance with her soon?

She would have to ask.

\--

Her pointes hurt her feet. The complexity of the steps was engraved in her brain, she didn’t need to think of the next one. She didn’t feel like she had to play the part - she felt like she was the Firebird, flying over the stage, flying over the trees in the forest. Her costume gave her the wings she needed, the freedom she wanted.

She danced.

She was radiant.

Time passed so quickly she didn’t even feel it.

She had spread her wings 

 

The company got a standing ovation, but Katniss barely heard it. She was still flying high above the forest of Koschei the Immortal, still in her little bubble of dance, dance, dance, as she came down into the locker room, walking straight to her assigned place. 

She only came down from her high when she saw the bouquet of wildflowers lying on the bench.

But not any wildflowers.

Katniss’s flowers.

There wasn’t a card or a note with the bouquet. Just the smell of the outdoors, a breath of fresh air pouring into the packed room, erasing the scent of sweat, and exhaustion she was feeling. A smell that brought back memories of her childhood, in the forest behind their home, a smell that reminded her of so much.  A bouquet so simple it was more beautiful to her than any elaborate florist composition. It went directly to her heart.

She carefully laid the flowers back on the bench and grabbed her vanity bag to take her shower, to get rid of the make up on her face and the sweat in her hair, the remnants of the ballet. To let go of the Firebird, to become Katniss again.

She was the last one to linger in the lockers room. Nobody had come for her, and she didn’t want to meet the crowd of people waiting, didn’t want pats on the back or hugs from people she didn’t know - she kind of envied the firebird his freedom.

But she knew also she had to leave, that she couldn’t hide in the privacy of the backstage forever or someone would come up to get her.

She sighed, finishing her braid before putting on her worn-out leather jacket, holding her flowers to her chest, and made her way up the stairs where she could hear the low buzz of the crowd.

She was met by a radiant pair of blue eyes, waiting for her at the top of the marble stairs, a huge smile on his face, and a simple katniss flower in his left hand, the right stretched out for her. She felt her bag fall from her shoulder as she took the last few steps, not caring where it had fallen, only reaching for the warmth of his arms, for his lips in her hair, and his laugh in her ears as she held onto him, caught in the embrace of his strong arms.

“You came, silly man, you came!”

“Of course I did, you didn’t expect me to miss this after all the work you did!”

“You came!” She was utterly surprised, repeating the two same words again and again in his ear, so happy she couldn’t help the large smile that came to her face, still amazed he was here. “But you had a show… How?”

“Gabe’s covering for me, don’t you worry. You were great, you were flying, Kat! I’m so proud of you!” Peeta whispered in her ear, holding her closer to his chest.

“Well, well, well. That’s a first, Sweetheart!” Haymitch’s rough voice came from behind her. She turned, still wrapped in Peeta’s embrace, to face her mentor with a scowl, bracing herself for whatever teasing he had in stock for her.

“You did great, Everdeen. I’m proud of you.” With a wink, Haymitch was gone, leaving Katniss almost speechless.

“Wow…” She was finally able to mutter, when her shock had finally faded. Haymitch had always been stingy with compliments, preferring to shout and point out the mistakes. It was one of the first times in forever that something good had come out of his mouth, and it was directed at her.

At her.

She felt a pang of pride in her chest, a sense of accomplishment too. Hours of hard work, dozens of pairs of pointes, bleeding feet, tears, all that built up to here and now. To the point where she could feel proud of herself, where she could finally be happy with the work she had done.

 

Finally. She had been free on that stage. She had been herself.

She had simply danced.

She had felt.

 

“You okay?” a deep voice came from behind her and Katniss realized two strong hands were gently caressing her arms, up and down, not in a sexual way, rather to bring comfort and peace.

She turned back into Peeta’s embrace and smiled. Never had an answer been so easy to form.

“Yeah. I am.”


	23. Step 23: Dance (Santiago's Dream)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Katniss finds herself watching Peeta dance onstage.
> 
> until ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest thanks to @xerxia31, @titaniasfics and dandelion-sunset for their expertise in grammar, spelling, commas and everything that needed to be corrected … and there was a lot. Ask xerxia about my meltdowns …
> 
> To @akai-echo – thank you my friend for everything you’ve done for this fic – the banners and aesthetics are beyond gorgeous.
> 
>  
> 
> Only one chapter left, folk – and a epilogue – should I post them separately ?
> 
> If you want to see the dance, youtube "Santiago's Dream" ...

 

It was easier now to start her day. The burden of the show was gone, the pressure off her shoulders. The company got excellent reviews, praising Cinna’s creativity in terms of costumes, as well as the ensemble performance of the dancers. Katniss herself even got some very good ones pointing out how her performance made the Firebird believable.

But all those good words were nothing compared to how proud Peeta was of her, staying by her side the whole evening long, ending up at Chez Valerie with all of the other dancers, like in the good old days, but always keeping his focus on her, never on his aborted ballet career. 

There was a hilarious moment when Finnick called, after his own day of rehearsals, to congratulate her on her hard work. Apparently, Peeta had sent him pictures.  
For the first time in a long time, Katniss felt free, happy and light. She knew the big show of the season was coming up, and she hoped she would have a role to play in it - one of the fairies, maybe, whichever would be a fit for her. But the nominations wouldn’t come for quite some time, and she didn’t want to think about it yet.

For now, her only concern was finding tiny Rue in the crowd of people surrounding the Arena, rushing to get inside the theater. Tonight, along with a bunch of other dancers from the National, they were going to see Peeta’s show. And she didn’t mind seeing him dance on a stage. She enjoyed the way his body moved with an almost feline grace. She’d seen it in hours of rehearsal together, and in their newfound intimacy - hands wandering under the clothes, tentatively mapping each other, even if they still had yet to take that big step together. 

“Katniss!” Rue’s high-pitched voice tore her out of her memories of Peeta’s hands under her camisole two nights ago, his fingers brushing the sides of her bra, the shivers it elicited on her heated skin. Katniss could see Thresh following his girlfriend, a polite smile on his face - he apparently wasn’t as excited as Rue to come.

“I’m so glad we can go together! And Thresh told me Peeta would be on stage tonight?” Rue said, fumbling in her purse to find the tickets.

“Yes he will be, I hope you don’t mind, Theodore?” Katniss chimed in, taking her ticket out of her jeans pocket. Being the girlfriend of one of the dancers had its perks, as she had realized when he had handed her her free entrance pass. Thresh grumbled an answer, clearly not as happy to be the only man in the group.

They were all ushered inside, their seats near the very front of the Arena, and waited until the now familiar music started. Familiar for Katniss, at least. She wasn’t surprised anymore by the music of Ricky Martin blasting out of the speakers, and focused her attention on Peeta’s appearance on the stage, to Alfredo’s music. 

Katniss remembered that night he danced with Delly in the opening number, making her spin and turn, dance in the light. Katniss didn’t feel any jealousy towards the woman in his arms - their relationship was one of brother and sister, and Delly was clearly head over heels about her fiancé and couldn’t wait to marry him.

But her practiced eyes saw something more to her dance - something a bit off. Like Delly wasn’t as sure as she had been the previous time. 

Of course, she smiled to the crowd, but Katniss’s trained eyes noticed a little limp, a little something that was amiss, like how Delly leaned onto Peeta a bit more. She turned her head, meeting Thresh’s eyes and nodded, answering his silent question.

She made a mental note to text Peeta at intermission, to ask if everything was right with Delly.

The first part of the show passed in a whirlwind of colors and applause, of latin music and dance. Even Thresh was sucked into the spectacle, Katniss could see his fingers tapping the tempo on his thigh.

As soon as the intermission started, her phone buzzed with a text from Peeta, asking her to come backstage as soon as the lights were on. Katniss quickly excused herself from her friends, dialing Peeta’s number as she tried to find a secluded place to talk to him.

“Kat, can you come backstage? We need you!”

“What do you mean you need me? Oh, Peeta, did you hurt yourself?”

She could hear him chuckle on the other end of the phone.

“No, nothing like that. But I, well, we have something to ask you. Can you come backstage? Gloss will let you through.”

“Okay - let me tell Rue and Thresh and I’ll be right there. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Sweetheart, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Don’t call me Sweetheart!” she answered, her usual comeback when he used the pet name she disliked, even though she knew it was futile. Peeta was almost as stubborn as she was. His laugh was the last thing she heard as he hung up the phone. 

Katniss quickly moved back to where Rue and Thresh were sitting, telling them she was heading backstage for a few minutes, before actually going to the stage, nodding at Gloss, the muscle-man standing guard - who was actually a sweetheart - and slipping behind the curtain.

She searched for any sign of Peeta, making her way into the locker room, greeting some of the dancers she recognized. 

“They are in the room in the back,” Johanna said, passing Katniss. She was clad only in a tiny red thong, a bottle of water in her hand. “This is going to be fun!”

Wondering what the hell she meant, Katniss entered the room Johanna indicated to discover Peeta bent over Delly, who was lying on one of the benches lining the walls, a pack of ice on her left knee.

“Oh my god, Delly, what happened?”

In a blink, Katniss crossed the room, taking in the puffy red eyes, the traces left by the tears Delly had shed. 

“She sprained her knee, I think,” Peeta said, rising from Delly’s side and coming to Katniss immediately, folding her in a hug. “Thanks for coming, Kat.”

She returned the hug, happy to see nothing bad had happened. Of course, Delly’s knee would need to be tended to, but it was nothing a few good weeks of rest couldn’t heal. Katniss pulled away from Peeta’s arms, and said, “You want me to drive her to the hospital?”

“Not exactly…” she heard Delly answering her question. “Thom is coming to pick me up… but we need someone to dance with Peeta in the finale.”

“Oh, who will do it? Johanna?” Katniss asked as she watched Peeta rake his hand nervously through his hair, his cheeks turning redder by the minute.

“You’re really brainless, Brainless.” Johanna made her entry, now wearing a gorgeous black lace dress opened high on her thigh. “You dance with him.”

“I can’t dance in this! That’s a crazy idea!” Katniss answered. “And why don’t you dance with him?”

“Because all of the other dancers are on stage in the number just before the finale, and only Dells was available,” Peeta finally spoke. “I know you can do it, Kat - it doesn’t have to be perfect, and we can rehearse a bit before the end…”

“I’ve never danced like that and you know it, Peeta!” She could feel the familiar grip of fear spreading through her body, leaving a cold feeling in her veins. She knew she should go back to her seat in the audience, should go back to Rue and Thresh as soon as possible. But there was something in Peeta’s eyes as he looked at her, something she had never seen before, something she couldn’t decipher. He was raking his hand through his locks over and over again, when a high pitched ring startled him.

“We have to go back,” Johanna said, breaking the silence. 

Peeta nodded at the brunette who hurriedly left the room. Then he came to Katniss, taking her hand in his and guiding her to a quiet corner at the other end of the room.

“I have to go back, I’m opening with Jo instead of Dells,” he said, looking at her sadly. “I’m sorry Kat, I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. We’ll stop the show one number before, it won’t be too bad, the girls can fill in for Delly and it’s just one number.”

Katniss felt relief in the pit of her stomach as she realized she wouldn’t have to go on stage, perform the last dance of a show, a dance she didn’t know and didn’t have time to learn.

“Don’t worry, I understand. Go, you’re needed on stage.” Katniss leaned in, pecking his lips, eager for more, so eager, but it was neither the place nor the time for that. “I’ll stay with Delly until Thom arrives, okay? Go, be great!”

She leaned in again, wanting to feel the warmth of him again, even if it was for a split second. She allowed her lips to trace his jaw - she liked his jaw - until she reached his ear, whispering, “I love to watch you dance,” before pulling away and walking to Delly, leaving Peeta speechless, with sparkles in his eyes.

Or maybe it wasn’t sparkles.

Maybe it was desire.

But his look did something to her too, elicited feelings from deep down and a warmth that she wasn’t sure she could staunch much longer.  She turned back to see the look in his eyes, then turned again and felt his gaze burning between her shoulder blades, as she walked towards Delly, until she heard the door closing.

“He’s a good guy,” Delly said as Katniss sat next to her head. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I know.” It wasn’t news to Katniss that her boyfriend was a nice man. Maybe the nicest she’d ever met.

“He’s been happier the past few weeks, I guess I understand why…” Delly added, with a small smile on her face. “I guess he’ll change his mind about the +1 at our wedding…”

“What do you mean?” Katniss was startled, not really understanding what the other woman was saying.

“He said I didn’t need to send him an invitation for a plus one for the wedding, but that was months ago. So I’m going to send him one, because I bet he will want you by his side.”

Delly’s wedding. Katniss hadn’t honestly paid a second of attention to the upcoming June nuptials, even though she knew Peeta would attend. Would he want her to come with him? 

“You sure you don’t want to go on stage with him?” Delly asked again, breaking Katniss out of her reverie. “To dance the last dance?”

“Delly….” Katniss sighed. “I’m not a Latin dancer, you know that. I would only ruin the show. And even if I could dance these steps, I don’t know the choreography….”

Delly rose to a sitting position, keeping one hand on the ice pack covering her knee, scowling at Katniss.

“That’s bullshit, Katniss, and you know it.”

“Delly…”

“Don’t Delly me, girly. You’re a dancer in the most difficult area of dancing, hell, you’re a ballet dancer! I can’t even begin to understand how you do it, okay? So many hours of work, so many steps, it’s so bloody difficult! And you say you can’t do a bit of Latine dancing?  I say it’s bullshit. You’ve spent enough mornings rehearsing here with our two best dancers, moving your little ass to our music to get it. You can dance anything, Katniss. Anything. And as for the choreography, do you really think Peeta would let you down? Really?”

Katniss knew he wouldn’t. Just like he had guided her in the salsa club, or in the jazz one, just like he had always been there to help her.

And the only time he asked for her help, she had said no. Out of fear, out of shyness, but she never actually considered helping him, hadn’t even given a thought to it.

“Having an epiphany, have we?” Katniss turned to Delly, who was now smirking. “Well, you know what to do, then.”

“But, how? I mean--”

“I’m planning a wedding. This is nothing compared to that. Let me make a few calls.” Winking, Delly took her phone from her purse, starting the first of a long list of calls.

\-- 

Katniss’s heart was beating a little too fast, a little too hard, as she watched the number unfold from her position near the curtains, hidden in the dark of the backstage. In the background,  women were spinning and bending to the music, the tempo getting quicker with every pass or move, finishing in a flurry of red and black dresses and shirts. The music died, and the audience applauded. Katniss knew that was the point when Peeta would remain alone on the stage, dancing on his own until Delly joined him for a passionate tango.

Only tonight, it wouldn’t be Delly.

She smoothed the dress she had borrowed - a simple orange halter dress - flexed her ankles in the shoes Delly lent her (they wore the same size) and took a deep breath.

She looked at him, waiting for the music to begin, alone on the stage, the light on him making his curls shine. He started moving along to the music, with only a spot bathing him in white light as he danced alone, mimicking holding a woman that wasn’t there.

Rotations in the tiny spotlight, eyes closed and a look of sadness and longing on his face, he danced only in the little part of the stage lit by the white spot, never stepping a foot outside the circle, yet never lingering too long in one place.

Katniss had no clue when she was supposed to go onto the stage, just memories of the first show she had seen when Delly had stepped into the light like an apparition, finding her place in Peeta’s arms naturally. She was questioning her ability to do it when she heard a slight deceleration in the music, like it was slowing down on purpose. She took a deep breath, and walked onto the stage on shaky heels, expecting two strong arms to catch and lead her into a routine she had only seen once.

She saw Peeta’s astonishment as she walked in the spotlight, into the arms that had opened to welcome her, heard his voice whisper in her ear as he pulled her closer to him, so close she wasn’t sure a hair would fit between them.

“Thank you, thank you….”

Katniss pulled her head away and looked into his eyes, watching them smile and sparkle, as he lead her in the dance.

Sure, it was nothing compared to the one she had seen him perform with Delly some months ago.

Sure, it was nothing like it could have been, had he danced with another seasoned pro.

But it was their dance, and it was perfect.

They turned and swirled to the lament of the music, his careful guidance hinting at the steps she was supposed to take, her body adapting to his rhythm and requests, their eyes never leaving one another’s. She could feel his hands burning on her skin, his fingers drawing patterns of their own, a sensual painting as they lingered a little lower with each move they made. She could feel the caress of the fabric of his trousers, between her legs as he bent her backwards, her hair brushing the hardwood. But as she   straightened, Katniss felt his hand tracing a line under her chin, from her sternum to her navel, leaving goosebumps on her skin.

She was sure the heat in his eyes when she was finally upright in front of him again could have burned her alive. 

She could still feel the place his hand had travelled, burned through the thin cotton of her dress, and she realized she wanted more, much more than just a touch. Peeta made her spin, catching her as she arrived back in his arms, and lifting her above his head, then letting her slide down his chest. She was sure he was able to feel how erect her nipples were when they rasped along his thin white undershirt, if the gasp that escaped his lips was any indication. 

If the way his tongue darted out of his mouth to wet his lips was any indication, eliciting the same reaction in her.

She almost forgot there was an audience behind them, almost forgot they weren’t alone on the stage.

Peeta’s hands drew her even closer to him, so close they shared the same breath.

She felt his pelvis brushing against hers, and had to use all her restraint not to moan when she felt him so close to where she wanted him. 

Katniss let her hand leave the comfort of his shoulder, sliding down his chest, until it reached his ribcage, started her own fantasy drawing on his white undershirt, making him lose his breath. He had his sweet revenge too, as he nuzzled her neck with his mouth, hiding in her loose hair, before whispering, “In eight, you go backstage… but I’m not done with you. Keep the dress.”

And sure enough on the eighth beat he spun her out of the light, until she reached the backstage.

Breathless.

She had danced the most difficult ballets, been on stage for more hours than she could count, but today’s performance - doing something that she couldn’t even call difficult - had left her breathless.

And she knew it had nothing to do with the dance itself and everything with the man who had made her spin, who was now finishing his routine alone, the same way he had started, until he too vanished into the dark, letting the music die with the light. Until the stage was quiet and dark.

Applause exploded from the audience after a few seconds, breaking the silence. As if it had taken the people watching some time to recover from the power of the final scene. The house lights illuminated the crowd of people applauding as the dancers came out one after the other onto the stage - even Delly - to accept their accolades. The clamor only grew louder when Peeta appeared at the end of the row, close to the curtain, and Katniss added her applause from the other side of the stage. 

As usual, Peeta took the mic he was handed, thanking the spectators for coming, introducing the band, the dancers one after the other, until he handed it to Delly who always was the one to introduce him. She took the microphone, clearing her throat before turning to the audience.

“And finally, the last dance introduced someone new to the company, someone who has never danced on our stage before. Please welcome our guest star, Miss Katniss Everdeen, Principal Dancer at the Panem National Ballet!”

Katniss’s jaw almost fell onto the hardwood of the stage as she heard Delly’s words. Was she dreaming or did Delly just asked her to come on stage? She looked around and saw an arm outstretched for her, Kevin’s or Dylan’s, she could never remember who was who, beaconing her to come and join them. But she wouldn’t move, not when she could stay in the comfort of the shadows.

“Oh, come on, Katniss, please! Peeta, you should go and get her!” 

Katniss could see the surprise on Peeta’s face at his friend’s words, then he looked at her, as if he was waiting for her approval to come and get her, even if the crowd and his fellow dancers were all applauding. She nodded a single time, and he made his way across the stage.

“You don’t have to come out, if you don’t want to,” he whispered as soon as he was next to her.

“I know.” She took a deep breath and reached for his hand, to give herself some courage, before stepping onto the stage, to the rhythm of the applause.

 

 


	24. Step 24 : Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the show.   
> It's finally time for Peeta and Katniss to go one step further in their relationship - and finally, finally end this long slow burn ;)
> 
> Hope you like !!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is - The last chapter of The Firebird. It’s been quite a ride, right?
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, reviewed, commented. You can’t even imagine how good it feels to see you liked the story, this journey Katniss started discovering herself.
> 
> Thank you for indulging me with 23 chapter of (very) slow-burn…
> 
> Thank you very very very very much to @xerxia31 for her time in betaing this chapter - i <3 the side notes :)
> 
> To @akai-echo, the lovely and beautiful, who created 24 aesthetics for this story - you are awesome :)
> 
> A tiny little epilogue will be published next week, on TUESDAY for Love in Panem “Love is…” challenge

 

The whirlwind of the after show took her by surprise. She was used to waiting for the dancers in the lobby of the Arena, and not to the cries and shouts that took place down near the locker room. Dancers were congratulating her, and each other, everybody had a kind word. Katniss tried to locate her belongings that had been  thrown haphazardly when Delly made her try on dresses. She wanted to make a quick exit and find her way home, to take a shower - a very cold shower - and be able to release all the tension that dancing with Peeta had elicited in her.

She never thought dancing could be so hot - and not because of the stage lamps or the temperature of the room. No, hot like her skin had been set on fire by the simple touch of his fingers or a brush of his lips, so hot the A/C coming on left shivers and goosebumps in its wake. It was so different from ballet, where technique was almost everything, where all steps were coded, where improvisation was almost a swear word.

Katniss had no clue how the audience had perceived the dance,  if it had been up to the usual high standards of the show or a deception, she couldn’t tell. She had been frightened to go onto that stage, but as the dance progressed, she had felt something else building inside of her, something raw, primitive, a fire spreading through her, hotter inside her belly than on her skin, a desire she had never felt before and that had everything to do with the way Peeta had touched her… Just thinking of his hand tracing the line from her sternum to her belly made her cheeks flush. 

She needed to get out of there as soon as possible, to breathe, and try to release the tension that had started building within her, in place she hadn’t expected - on a stage in front of a crowd. She had hoped that building up would happen one day, but in the intimacy of one of their apartments.

She was looking for a bag she could borrow when she felt a familiar hand on her arm, sliding until her fingers were intertwined with his.  Peeta whispered in her ear.  “You’re not disappearing on me, Firegirl, not tonight… not in this dress. Will you come home with me?”

Would she? She knew very well what the question was hinting at. Knew that if she chose to say no, he would not insist, would take her to her place, kiss the life out of her and bid her goodnight, leaving her with an ache her fingers wouldn’t satisfy. Couldn’t satisfy. She wondered if his fingers would bring her to completion, and that’s when she knew what her answer would be.

She nodded.

He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a hot kiss, his tongue tracing the outskirts of her lips, lingering in the corner of her smile, but never caved into entering the soft cavern where she wanted him. Instead, he took his sweet time, savoring her each and every moan, each and every move she was making until they heard a cough and a laugh.

“Here they are, hiding in dark corners!” Johanna’s voice was heavy with laughter. “Told you they would be together, Lovechild!” she added as she patted Delly’s back on her way out. Peeta’s friend was trying to hide her smile behind her hands, and a sports bag was hanging from her elbow.

“I found a bag for you, Katniss. thought I would bring it to you. Sorry for interrupting, I’m going to head back. Go on! Don’t mind me! Well, wait until I leave but then carry on! I’ll lock the door!” Delly added, giggling.

“I guess we could just leave?” Peeta asked, reluctantly pulling out of Katniss’s warmth.

“Don’t you have to go and entertain the masses first?”

“Can we just skip and go to my place?” Peeta’s voice was almost a whimper in her ear, as he left kisses along her jaw.

“And miss half the fun. We wouldn’t want that, right? And I have to warn Thresh and Rue I won’t be heading back with them, right?” Katniss leaned in leaving a peck on his warm lips wanting to linger there but knowing also that Jo and Delly would be only the first ones coming to look for them. Peeta’s absence would be noticed sooner rather than later, and she really didn’t want anyone else to find them in a … compromising position.

“Yeah, you’re right, I know you are…. “ Peeta sighed. “You mind going on ahead? I need to … calm down a little.”

“Keep that thought, though,” Katniss added, her eyes sliding down his torso until they reached the bulge that tented his black slacks, lingering there for a little too long.

“Katniss, don’t look at me like that, or else we’re never going to leave this room…”

She winked, adding in a deeper voice. “Rain check….” before she opened the door and slipped away. She was pretty sure her lips and cheeks were all red, flushed by his kisses, but she realized she didn’t really care.

Katniss quickly put her belongings into the sports bag Delly had found for her, folding her coat over her arm before heading into the lobby, where almost everyone was gathered. She quickly located Rue and Thresh who were looking around, no doubt searching for her in the sea of heads surrounding them.

“Hey guys, sorry I left, there was an emergency,” she said as soon as she had reached them.

“We saw! Kitty, I’ve always known you were a great dancer, but I didn’t know you knew ballroom dancing too!” Thresh said, as he gathered her in one of his trademark bear hugs. “You were beautiful!”

“I disagree - she was radiant,” Peeta’s voice chimed in, making Katniss turn her head in surprise at seeing him there, with her, when there were tons of people who were clearly looking for him.

“Peet! my man!” Thresh greeted Peeta, extending his hand as if they had been best friends forever. “That was some glorious shit up on stage! When did you find the time to train Kitty Kat?”

Katniss closed her eyes at the pet name Thresh was always using when talking to her. She had fought tooth and nail to try and get rid of it, unsuccessfully.

“Kitty Kat?” Katniss saw Peeta’s smile at the pet name, the way his eyebrows wiggled, the smirk forming on his lips.

“Don’t!” She warned him, her index finger outstretched. She didn’t expect him to grab it, and press a feather light kiss to the knuckle as he smiled.

“I wouldn’t steal Thresh’s nickname for you,” Peeta answered, taking the opportunity to link her fingers with his, letting his thumb draw on the skin of her hand, teasing her slowly. “So you liked the show?” 

Katniss could feel Peeta coming closer to her, as his thumb continued its maddening journey from left to right, up and down, circling then stopping, retreating then coming back, alternating between a quick and a slow pace. She wondered what it would feel to have him draw patterns on all of her skin, on her most intimate parts. Would he use only his hands or would his mouth get into play too? She wanted to know, to discover if her hands could elicit the same kind of reaction on his body.

“You two up for a drink?” Katniss heard Thresh ask at the same time that she saw Rue hit her boyfriend’s arm. No, she really didn’t want to go and have a drink, she wanted to go to Peeta’s place and have their private evening together.  Just the two of them.

“Sure. Right Kat?” she heard Peeta answer, and as she turned to face him, to question his willingness to go, she felt his thumb on her hand, drawing a new pattern, more intimate, circling the base of her thumb. She saw the mischief in his eyes, as if he was enjoying delaying them going back to his place. That’s when she realized it - he WAS enjoying it. Well, two could play that game, right?

“Of course!” Katniss answered, while giving Rue and Thresh her warmest smile. “Where do you want to go?”

\--

Katniss was ready to burst. Combust. Explode. 

On the way to the pub, Peeta had continued his teasing, his fingers still doing maddening things to her hand, his smell intoxicating, a mix of his cologne, a hint of sweat, and his own scent, something that was so him she wished she could bottle it. 

When they were settled beside each other at their table, in a booth at the pub, Katniss had almost sighed in relief when Peeta had set his hands on top of the table. She soon realized, however, that he wasn’t done with her.

At all.

And that his angelic face could hide a demon.

It had all started with the brushing of his leg against hers, like a casual move. But then he had snuck his leg under her left, bringing his thigh closer to the place she really wanted him. And again, while talking with Rue and Thresh like nothing was happening, explaining how he had joined the company a few years ago, his leg had started moving up and down, up and down. Teasing her, again and again, until she was sure her cheeks were so flushed everybody could guess what was happening under the table.

Fortunately, as Rue had an early start as a teacher the next day, she and Thresh left after the first round of drinks, asking Peeta to make sure Katniss got home safely.

“Oh, I’ll make sure she comes,” he answered, and added after the slightest pause, “home.”

Katniss almost gasped when she heard him, feeling her whole body shiver in anticipation, taking Peeta’s outstretched hand to help her out of the booth, following Rue and Thresh out of the pub. They all exchanged goodbyes before Katniss and Peeta started walking towards his apartment, only a few blocks away. 

His hand found her waist, tugging her closer into him, until Katniss felt his warm breath on her cheeks. She shivered again at the feel of his lips on her skin, at the pecks that adorned her jaw, small, like a feather teasing her, warming her more if that was even possible.

The whole walk to his place was torture for Katniss, and it had nothing to do with the heels she was still wearing. 

The whole elevator trip took way too long,  time Peeta spent talking to his neighbor, all the while repeating his ministrations with his hands, even until Mrs Seeder entered her own apartment, leaving them alone in the corridor in front of Peeta’s door.

But instead of opening it, he turned to Katniss, his face serious. Katniss had half-expected/half-hoped he would rush them in, before hoisting her against the hard wood of the door…

“Katniss… Are you sure you’re ready?” Peeta asked, concern etched all over his face.

Was she ready? Hadn’t he spent the whole evening teasing her, making her want him - why was he asking?

She realized she knew the answer. Because he was Peeta. Because he was a kind man, always putting others before himself. Because if she didn’t want to have sex with him that night, he would sleep on the couch, no questions asked.

Because that was what she loved about him.

She didn’t even startle at the word. Love. Because it was so obvious.

She could see Peeta was still waiting for her answer, fidgeting on his feet, and she saw his right arm rising, aiming for his hair, as it usually did when he was nervous.

But Katniss was quicker than he was.

She grabbed his hand in hers, stopping his arm in mid-air, pulling it to her. She had always been an action person. Peeta could have the words.

Slowly, always looking into his eyes, losing herself in the blue she found there, she lowered his hand to her mouth, and started kissing his knuckles, once at a time, lingering a little longer each time. She wasn’t sure the sound that escaped his mouth was a whimper or a moan, and she couldn’t have cared less. 

She had thought she was the quicker one, but she never saw his other hand coming, finding its way behind her head, moving her face closer to his, so close their foreheads were almost touching. So close she could feel his breath over her cheeks, so close she could see herself falling into his eyes, pools of blue. Katniss leaned in, brushing her lips against his at first before sucking on his upper lip. 

She pulled back, only to realize Peeta’s eyes were still open, filled with desire and something she didn’t want to acknowledge right now. But ii was short lived as he leaned  in, bringing his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks sweetly before he kissed her. 

Katniss felt the kiss resonating through her body, in every fiber, every nerve, every part of her urging her to reciprocate, to kiss him senseless. It was as if a hunger had taken root inside her belly, wanting more of his lips, of his hands, of his moans. She thought she would collapse in a heap of jelly at his feet when she felt his tongue begging for entrance, and even more when it started to draw the most erotic designs on the palate of her mouth. 

Soon, too soon, Katniss felt him pull away, even though his forehead lingered against hers while they both tried to catch their breaths.

“Maybe it’s better if we go inside…” The words resonated on her skin, but she was too wound up to be able to answer in words. Nodding was a good option. She gave the slightest nod, taking advantage of the movement to kiss his lips again. 

It was like she wasn’t able to  satiate this hunger. Ever.

It was like he wasn’t able to satiate his hunger. Either.

 

They finally managed to enter his apartment, Katniss dropping her sports bag as soon as the door was closed behind them. She took off her coat, expecting Peeta to get out of his clothes too. To her surprise, he only removed his own coat, then held his hand out to grab hers before putting them both on the back of the chair. Watching him walk back to her, she couldn’t help but lick her lips. One of his hands grabbed her hand, the other tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, a smirk on his face as he let his index finger linger on her cheek. The tease.

“We already danced…” Katniss answered, eager to have that finger wander down her body.

“Not the way I wanted to...” Peeta’s fingers linked with hers, and he started moving them towards the living room. He let go of her hand for a few seconds, just enough time to put the stereo on. The opening chords of the music they had danced to on stage filled the air.

“Let me show you what I wanted to do to you when I saw you in that dress….” Peeta’s voice was raw, full of desire, his eyes sparkling as he let his gaze wander all over the smooth orange of her dress, taking time to linger on the curve of her breasts, the swell of her hips. 

Katniss could feel the warmth of his eyes on her, building something more intense inside of her, something so strong she was pretty sure she would explode when he finally touched her. But he didn’t touch her. 

She remained still, watching him come closer, so close she could have touched him if she had moved her hand. He had another goal in mind, though, as he started walking around her, letting his finger climb along her arm, slowly, the climbing matching his pace, until Katniss could hear him stop right behind her. She could feel his breath, hot even through the fabric her dress, feel his fingers tracing her spine, slowly, until they reached the buttons, freeing them, freeing her back.

She couldn’t prevent a moan when his lips replaced his fingers, when his mouth started to trace each vertebrae, caressing the skin with his hot tongue. Katniss felt her head fall back, her dark locks mixing with his soft blond hair, until he made his way through them, continuing his torturous routine. She was pretty sure she would become jelly in a matter of seconds in his hands.

“You are incredible…” He whispered when he reached the nape of her neck, letting his lips linger on her shoulder.

“Didn’t you want to dance?” Katniss asked, breathless.

“Aren’t we?” Peeta answered as he finally reappeared in front of her. She caved, not willing to wait anymore, and laced her arms behind his neck, his moan of approval resonating through her body. She opened her mouth to let his tongue come in, dancing a dance they were made to perform. 

They danced, or maybe they didn’t.

Hands started to discover exposed skin, muscle after muscle. Her back, his arms. Her legs, his neck. Slowly, because they had all the time in the world, they danced to the rhythm of their kisses.

Until… until Peeta’s hands were on the knot of Katniss’ halter dress, his eyes asking, her head nodding, his hands moving, her dress falling on the carpet.

Her hands busied themselves with getting him rid of his shirt and undershirt, discovering the contours of his muscles, eliciting moans from him that only mimicked the sounds she was making as his hands discovered the valley between her breasts, teasingly, slowly. But she was lost to the world when his lips started embarking on a journey down the column of her neck, to her breasts, with utmost reverence.

“Peeta” she breathed, unable to catch her breath anymore, unable to find air as Peeta alternated between kissing her breasts, her lips, her neck, as if her body was something to worship. She felt her legs turning to rubber as he continued his ministrations, but his arms were there to support her, pulling her body closer to his until she felt the evidence of his desire for her too. The hard bulge caressing her thighs gave her back some strength in her legs, some urgency to have more of him.

Katniss reached for the button of his jeans, pulling away from his distracting lips as much as her flexibility would allow, until the jeans fell down his hips.

She laid a finger across his lips when he leaned over, her other hand fondling his length through his black boxer briefs. 

“Bedroom. No more teasing,” she added, leaning in to take his mouth in a searing kiss that made her toes curl. She felt him nodding during the kiss, as his hands grabbed of her thighs, lifting her into his arms as if she weighed nothing. Never breaking their kiss, he walked them towards his bedroom, not bothering with the lights.

The moonbeams falling through the windows were all the glow they needed.

They untangled for the briefest of time, to rid themselves of the clothing that prevented them from being skin to skin, or to be sure he was fully sheathed in latex, their mouths and hands discovering all of each other’s secrets, the places where moans were coming from.

Until they were finally, finally linked together.

And moving in a dance they had started ages ago.

Quick and slow, a foxtrot of some kind.

Hard and soft, an arabesque after a piqué.

Stretching and flexing, again and again. 

Repeating the moves, until they were perfect.

Until they both fell, completed, satiated, in each other’s arms.

Together.


	25. Step 25: The Nutcracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the journey for Katniss and Peeta...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest thanks to @xerxia31, @titaniasfics and dandelionsunset for their beta skill. For the Beta team that includes @titaniasfics, thank you all so so so so so so much for your help all along that looong story.  
> To @akai-echo - thank you for your heart, for your art :)
> 
> This is it. The end of The Firebird.
> 
> I'm a bit emotionnal, really ...
> 
> thank you for reading this story, for liking it, for commenting !
> 
> Thank you for staying with me all through Katniss's journey into herself, to become who she really is :)
> 
> If you liked the story and want to read more of what I write, please do tell :)
> 
> I'm thegirlfromoverthepond on tumblr.
> 
> I'm currently working on two new multi-chapters fics and take every encouragement I can :)
> 
> See you soon ?

Katniss liked the mornings after. After a show was finished, when she could relax and enjoy the quiet peace of the bedroom.

Today, she didn’t want to move. Her legs were intertwined with Peeta’s, her head on his chest, listening to his heart beating, calmly, strongly. He was still sleeping, his breathing deep and slow, his right hand holding her close to him, as if he was frightened she would fly away. As if she would try to move.

For the first time in decades, she felt at ease, her body sore and exhausted, not only from the dance last night, but also from the other type of exercise she and Peeta indulged in.

  
Her body had been in flames, he had awoken the embers that laid under her skin, had fanned them to a furnace until they both combusted many times over the night.

But now wasn’t a time for burning passion, now was a time for quiet waking, snuggled one against the other, basking in the peace. Later today would be the time for talking, or for pancakes, but not now.

She let her eyes wander past Peeta’s naked chest, past the rhythmic movement of his breathing, until they settled on the ink drawn on his left wrist, illuminated by a ray of sun coming through the open window.  The cool morning air played with her hair, viciously caressing the back of her neck, making her shiver. She lifted her hand, taking extra care not to wake him, until her fingers reached his wrist. Then she carefully started tracing his tattoo with the nail of her index finger.

“You like that tattoo a bit too much, don’t you?” Peeta’s voice almost startled her.

“It’s beautiful. I like the drawing a lot… it’s like you said... hope,” she answered, her finger following the birds leaving the dandelion.

“You don’t have any.” It wasn’t a question. He knew firsthand she didn’t have any tattoos. 

“No. Already got too many scars on my body and soul to add more….” She could feel the sadness in her voice as she remembered all her family had gone through.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay, Kat. I’m here.”

“Until you leave with the company.” She knew the show would leave in autumn for another town, another place, and that he would leave with them.

“I’m not leaving, Katniss,” Peeta said as he traced the pure lines of her arm.

“But the company is…”

“I won’t be with the company when it leaves.”

“Peeta… no… you love dancing…”

“I do. But there are other things I love more.” He looked at her seriously, and she knew, knew deep down he was testing the waters. That he was ready to confess he was in love with her. But she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear until she knew they had a future together.

And again, he seemed to understand her as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her nose, before he added, “And I was offered a job.”

“What, but, that’s great, Peeta! Where?”

“The National.”

“The National? But I thought you couldn’t do ballet anymore?”

“I can’t do a whole ballet. Doesn’t mean I don’t still have a mean piqué.”

“That you do have,” she smiled at the double-entendre. She let her hand fall on his chest, following the hair on his pecs. “What will you do?”

“Teach. Haymitch will take over the directing part of the shows, Kristina will take Haymitch’s place, and I’ll be taking K’s.”

“You’re going to be my teacher….”

“Imagine private sessions in the Boudoir.”

“Peeta! Stop!”

“We can start today, rehearsing for the Nutcracker…”

“I don’t even know if I’ll be in Nuts yet,” Katniss whispered, looking down at her hands, trailing along his chest, becoming suddenly immensely interested in a mole there.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll get in. I might know a man, who knows a man….” he answered, and with a move born from years of dance, a simple twist of the arm, he reversed their positions, making sure Katniss forgot about the rest of the world for the next few hours, losing herself in him, in them.

 

\--

Five, ten, or fifteen weeks later.

Tchaïkovsky’s familiar strains echoed in the reverent silence of the National Ballet. Katniss had to acknowledge that having a full orchestra gave the ballet a different flavor, something even more alive and vivid, something shinier and better.

She was flexing her ankles to keep them warm, shaking out her arms to get rid of the stress that was slowly creeping in, when she felt strong arms wrap around her waist and soft lips grazing her ear.

“You’re going to fly, Firegirl. Go get them.”

“Peeta! You’re going to ruin my hair!” Katniss tried to sound irritated and failed as usual. Her arms went automatically to her updo, checking that no stray hairs were out of place in the hairstyle Octavia had spent a long time fixing.

She felt him lean closer, his warmth caressing her skin when he whispered.

“I can’t wait to ruin your hair later tonight. One pin after another before I undress you and taste you again and again, until you see stars…” He left a peck on her bare shoulder, his hands tracing a trail of fire on her back, her head full of memories and expectations.

“You can’t say things like that before I go on stage! You’re a demon!”

“Katniss, ten seconds!” a technician interrupted, not even looking at the couple in front of him, checking his tablet.

“Go dance, love,” Peeta said with a last kiss, backing away into the shadows.

_ Always, _ Katniss thought, taking a deep breath.

The curtains opened.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to ct522/titaniasfics for the crazy task of betaing this story.  
> My deepest thanks to the awesome akai-echo for the gorgeous, splendid banners and aesthetics she created .
> 
> I can promise a long ride :)  
> Please leave me a message to let me know what you think about this story :)
> 
>  
> 
> i'm @thegirlfromoverthepond on tumblr


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